Chess
by xxWickedWench
Summary: "Monsters are real, and ghosts are real, too. They live inside of us, and sometimes, they win." The most effective way to win in chess is to capture the queen to take down the king. And that's exactly what he was going to do. .Complete. Part III of III.
1. the snowball fight

**CHESS**

**Chapter One**

I crouched low behind a sloppy stack of snow-covered crates, packing some of the white stuff in my gloved hands as I waited there for a moment to catch my breath. We'd been at this for nearly an hour, and I was exhausted. But I wasn't about to lose. I wasn't going to give him the pleasure of knowing he'd beaten me.

Courageously, I peeked out from overtop of the hiding spot, staring across the barren, white-covered streets. There was no boy in sight. I nearly stood straight up until a large handful of slush was slapped on top of my head, soaking through my hat and into my hair. I stood up with a cry of outrage, turned on my heel and threw my snowball as hard as I could, pelting him in the back.

A joyous "whoop!" echoed across the buildings as I finally landed a hit. The first one I'd gotten all afternoon. He was terribly good at this. Until he turned at the last second and I earned a hard snowball to the face, forcing me to lose my balance and fall face first into an unforgiving snow drift.

I let out a low growl of indignation, cheeks flaming from the heat of my embarrassment as I heard him jog over to me, laughing like a lunatic. I rolled over and glared up at him, pushing snow from my face, waiting for him to be finished so he could help me up. Damn bastard.

"Come on, Ang," Silver said, hauling my ass up from the ground. "We were supposed to be back at the Lodging House an hour ago."

Silver and I entered the Lodging House, stamping our feet near the door to rid our boots from tracking in any snow. Parks, the Brooklyn equivalent of Kloppman, came from his study and forced us out of our boots and wet coats so that he could dry them near the fireplace.

"You're hair looks like hell," Silver informed me as I tugged my hat off, running a hand over my hair in embarrassment.

"Yeah, well, you're face looks like hell. So swing on it, Silver," I shot back and gave his chest a shove. He shoved me back and it was a shove-war. First the snowball war, now a shove war. We are such childish newsies.

Until someone cleared their throat nearby and we both looked over to see Spot Conlon standing at the bottom of the stairs, arms crossed, not looking too pleased.

"I don't like not knowin' where me girl is, Harris," Spot informed him, giving Silver a pointed look.

After the night Spot had kicked Silver's ass for standing up for me the night we broke up, I'd been oddly protective of the boy. Silver got the brunt of things, just because he was second in command, because he "should know better" or some shit. But I'd always thought Spot was too hard on him. He put too much weight on Silver's shoulders. It wasn't Silver's job to be my vigilant, dutiful protector.

"Spot, _I _suggested the snowball fight. Ain't a big deal. We're back now," I told him, pulling my gloves off.

His blue eyes shifted to my face before returning to Silver. He glared at him for a while, until I got tired of the stalemate. I crossed my arms and glared at Spot, until he noticed my glare and the edge left his eyes. Something unspoken passed between Silver and Spot and I rolled my eyes, chalking it up as one of those _boy_ things they did rather frequently in my presence, and headed for the stairs to put something warm and dry on.

Before I got the chance to, though, Spot grabbed me and kissed me, hard, in front of his boys. Most of them were just lounging around the foyer of the Lodging House. They cat-called and whistled and the thought briefly crossed my mind to sock him in the face for his arrogance and his general bastard-like behavior but I reminded myself that I actually really liked it, so I didn't slug him. He let go and smiled like a fox at me, which I returned happily with a dirty look of my own, before I left to change.

After changing into something dry, I ran a brush through my damp hair and tied it back with an old ribbon. I wiped my nose on a spare towel I found in the washroom, sniffling, my nose constantly running in the ice cold weather. I chucked the towel on Silver's bunk, smirking to myself, and then plodded back down the steps, seeing Silver sitting to the side with some of the boys, playing cards, of course. I shuffled into Parks' study and sat down in front of the huge fireplace, snapping off twigs from the nearby wood pile, feeding them one by one into the hungry flames, watching them fizzle up and turn to ash.

Ah, winter! I have never experienced anything so thrilling in my entire life. People used to think me mad because of the seriously sick delight I got being outside in the frigid air. But truth be told, I had never seen snow before. It never snowed in Ireland. It got chilly out, yes, but it was chilly all the time there. And the sky darkened, shrouded by the perpetual mass of clouds, but it was always cloudy in Ireland.

No, winter was something entirely foreign to me when I first experienced it. Yet, I still found myself itching under my skin nowadays, looking for every excuse to go outside and enjoy the snow. I wasn't bothered by the cold; I rather enjoyed it. Some thrills never die, no matter how old and hardened by life you are.

My thoughts drifted as I allowed myself to warm up in front of the fire. I was surprised that the Bronx had been so quiet. It had been four months and there was nothing from them. No stirring of tension, no making of waves. They showed up for parties and get-togethers that Medda threw at the Hall, the only real neutral ground in New York City, but they kept to themselves and didn't bother anyone. After the blowout with Desiree a few months prior, though, everyone was suspicious of their behavior but nobody confronted them about it. Not even Spot, who harbored a rather giant, tangible vendetta against Johnny for an unknown reason that escaped me still.

We were all pretty content with walking on eggshells around them. It was unnerving, sure, but it was by far better than being harassed by them. They weren't doing anything wrong, _technically_, but they weren't beaten into submissive silence by Brooklyn like some of the lower boroughs had been. They just... weren't bothering us.

It was still amazing to me how many people were truly frightened by the unstoppable, unattainable enigma that was Spot Conlon. It still amazed me, seeing people part like the Red Sea when he entered parties, little kids clamoring to shake his hand. It was hilarious, but very, very humbling, since I was the girl on his arm, blushing and smiling as the newsies parted for us. As I've told you before, I am not good with spotlight. I actually would rather like to avoid it. to be honest. I even got some handshakes of my own, because everyone wanted to 'make nice with Spot's girl.' I was slowly getting used to the fame, but it still was really obnoxious. People knowing my name and all. I supposed it just came with the whole package deal of being the girl of the most respected and famous newsie in all of New York (and probably everywhere else).

My thought broke in half when Spot entered the room and took a seat on the floor beside me, taking the twig I was twirling in my fingers. He tossed it into the fire and I nudged his shoulder with mine, smiling when he looked over curiously at me.

"I love the winter," I informed him plainly, as if he didn't all ready know that. I'd been reminding him of it ever since it started snowing, sometimes a couple times a day. I couldn't help it. I felt compelled to continue telling him.

"I know ya do, Angel," he said, smirking at me. If he was annoyed by my childishness, it didn't show. I was glad. He took every part of my in stride, and I love him so desperately for that.

"So didja read Silver the Riot Act then?" I asked him, scratching the tip of my nose with my fingernail, sniffling slightly.

He shrugged and then shook his head. "Nah, it wasn't a big deal," he said offhandedly.

I gave his shoulder a shove with my own, rolling my eyes. "Then why didja act like such an ass if it wasn't a big deal? You know I hate it when you're mean to Silver."

"I'm still the king, doll," Spot said, and my chest cavity shuddered delightfully at the way the endearment fell from his lips. I still enjoyed being called that. "Gotta keep the front up. 'Specially now since I ain't no womanizer no more."

I snorted. "You were never a womanizer, Spot Conlon. Get over yourself all ready."

His arm hooked me around the waist and he hauled me over to him, his mouth capturing the soft flesh of my neck. "Never."

The front door was thrust open just then and Princess, our newest Brooklyn addition, came bursting in, after spotting us in Parks' study. Spot stood up slowly, pulling me with him as she barreled toward him, long wheat-colored hair swinging behind her. I made a mental note to get the girl a hat for Christmas. Her ears were red from the frosty air.

"Whassa matter, Princess? Somebody hurt ya?" Spot asked, gripping the tiny girl by her shoulders.

Spot had been very protective of Princess ever since she showed up, quivering and sobbing because some of Johnny's boys had messed around with her, shoving her around and teasing her, after she'd ran away from home. She was nine years old, and she reminded me so much of myself, hardened by seeing too much of life in only a short amount of time.

But she was a whimsical little girl. She really was. She liked sweet things, always begged one of the older boys to buy her candy. As of late, she'd been finding little boxes of chocolates under her pillow. I suspected that Spot took it on himself to spoil her a bit, but I never said anything about it, just enjoyed his sweetness and the way he pretended to be surprised when she ran through the Lodging House waving the box around like a maniac.

Princess sniffled, her cheeks flushed from the cold air, her light eyelashes wet from melted snowflakes catching on them.

"No. I thought- I thought I saw my Pa. And I was going to use the knives, just like you taught me, but then Sneak came around the corner and scared me. So I ran back here, just like you said to." She turned and saw the trail of snow she'd left from running inside and having not taken her wet things off, before turning her large green eyes back to Spot. "I'm sorry for getting snow in your Lodging House, Spot."

Spot shook his head. "It's all right, Princess. No harm done. Are ya okay?"

Princess nodded and the door was opened again, making her jump in fright and inch closer to Spot out of instinct. It was Sneak, and he didn't look too happy, but he was carrying peppermint sticks in his hand.

"God, she's such a baby!" Sneak muttered, slipping out of his coat and hanging it on the row of hooks beside the door. "I didn't scare her."

"Ya did so!" Princess replied, indignant.

"All right, that's enough," Spot barked, more so at Sneak than at Princess, who clung to Spot anxiously. God, my heart cried out for that little girl.

"Sneak, you know better than to startle Princess," I said, stepping in the middle. I couldn't just watch anymore, and Spot looked about ready to throttle the little bird. "You were _supposed_ to be watching out for her."

"I was!" Sneak defended himself. "I went to get us some peppermint sticks. I was gone for two seconds, Angel. Honest."

I shook my head. "You shoulda taken her with you, Sneaky. She's still skittish. Next time, think on your feet. Got me?"

Sneak nodded at my stern look and shuffled his feet. Princess peeked out from Spot's hug and gazed at him. Sneak smiled sheepishly at her.

"Look, Princess, I'm sorry for frightenin' ya. Come on. Let's go see if Parks'll make us some hot chocolate," Sneak suggested.

Princess jumped at the idea, abandoning Spot's hug for Sneak's hand when he offered it and they walked together to the kitchen to go bother Parks for something warm. They were sweet together and I really appreciated the way Sneak stepped up to be Princess's protector and the way he looked out for her was really very sweet.

Nodding in satisfaction, I tossed a smirk back at Spot, who had taken residence in Parks' armchair. "See? It's a much nicer conversation when ya ain't so mean," I told him, settling myself into his lap, resting my head on his sturdy shoulder.

He smiled and his arms wound around my waist, pulling me closer. "I think Sneak likes it best when ya yell at him, Angel. If ya can call that yellin'. Ya too damn soft."

I snorted. "Thanks."

"Better than bein' a pistol like ya used to be," he continued. I cuffed him on the shoulder playfully.

"You liked it," I accused.

"Spot Conlon doesn't _like_ anything," he informed me, closing his eyes. "He is an enigma, a mystery. And pretty damn sexy."

I rolled my eyes. "With an ego that has its own gravity."

"Point?"

"Bastard."

"That's _Mr._ Bastard to you."

He pulled me tighter against him and I fished out the steel skeleton key from under his shirt, holding it as he dozed quietly against me. I let him sleep for a while, not sure how long we were sitting there. No one bothered us, which was weird. Eventually, I pressed my lips against the curve of his neck, watching his eyes flicker open sleepily.

"Tired much?" I murmured playfully.

A lazy smile curved his lips and I resisted the urge to crush my lips against that smiling mouth. "Nah. Just like havin' ya close all the time."

"Why?" I teased him. "Didja miss me or somethin', Conlon?"

He chuckled and something warm flooded into the hollow cavity of my chest. "Every single minute of every damn day that you were gone."

"So," I said slowly. "Ya don't like me, but ya missed me."

This earned me another peal of quiet laughter and a kiss against the hollow of my throat. "Exactly," he agreed.

I scowled in his general direction. "You're such an ass."

"I love ya, too, Lissa."

* * *

_**Wow. This is the beginning of the end. It's surreal. But all great stories must be finished eventually, yes? :) Hopefully this satisfies all of you SpotxAngel lovers, because it's only going to go downhill from here. I'm hoping to pass twenty chapters. I hate writing things that are considered "short stories". I'm working on this thing called PLOT DEVELOPMENT. Hopefully it works, yo. xD**_

**_BTW, I may have another casting call coming up. Just because I've gained some new reviewers since BLUE EYES, some of you have hopped on board with me during VICIOUS (yay for me!) so I figured I should give you a chance to be part of the greatness (it is great, isn't it?) that is this trilogy._**

_**Anyways, there you have it. Love it, and drop me a review, telling me how great I am.(NOT!) Oh, and tell my Spot!muse how great he is, too. You know how he gets. :)**_

_**CTB!**_

_**xx Wicked**_

**_PS- Princess is not mine. She belongs to Princess Conlon, who agreed to let me borrow her. :) Hope I've done her justice, dearie._**


	2. the funeral

**CHESS**

**Chapter Two**

_The pew is hard,_ I decided, shifting yet again to try and get comfortable. The priest was droning on and on and I glared at my hands, which shifted restlessly in my lap. I was so angry I almost didn't want to be here, but I knew I had to.

For her.

The priest told us all of her beauty and her virtue, of how she died tragically, with no one but the angels to care for her now. I didn't know this girl he spoke of. The Diana I knew loved playing poker and drank whisky with the best of the boys. The Diana I knew was a hothead and she was shallow, but she was also very kind and generous. The Diana I knew fancied herself with Racetrack, admiring and pining from afar, waiting for the right chance to tell him.

She would never get that chance now.

The priest did not mention the terribleness of how she died. He didn't tell us why the casket remained closed, so nobody would have to see how mangled her body was from throwing herself so carelessly down the staircase in Ashfield Manor. He didn't mention that she faced the seventh layer of Dante's Hell for finally taking control of something that was actually hers and ending her own life. But it wasn't like they would. In this life, you were always a good Christian girl, whether or not you actually were.

We followed the procession outside, some elders carrying out her casket, setting it into the large damp hole that was all ready dug out for her. We stood around the hole as the priest led us in one final prayer:

_O Greatest Heart of Jesus, ever present in the Blessed Sacrament, ever consumed with burning love for the poor captive souls in Purgatory. Have mercy on the Soul of Thy departed servant. Be not severe in Thy judgment but let some drops of Thy precious blood fall upon the devouring flames, and do Thou O merciful Saviour send thy angels to conduct Thy departed servant to a place of refreshment, light, and peace. Amen. May the souls of all the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace. Amen._

And then, just like that, it was over. I watched with pain as the workers began to throw dirt over my best friends' head. Something broke off in my heart and fell away, crumbling in the cave of my belly. Tears welled in my eyes but I wouldn't let myself cry. Not yet.

Medda crossed the grass and embraced me. I leaned into her and sighed, trying to swallow back the thickness that gathered in my throat. "I am so sorry about Diana, Lissa. It must be so hard. I can't even imagine your pain." I nodded mutely, shuddering from the inside. "Is Spot here, Lissa?" she asked quietly.

I nodded again and leaned back, wiping at my eyes before the tears spilled. I hated the sadness that weighed me down like a lead anchor. It crept in my bones and left me frigid and heavy. I just wanted to die, to curl up beside Diana in that casket and keep her safe. Just like I'd wanted to do with my mother, and now with Sean and the birds.

Marcus and Mrs. Pemberton stayed huddled together. Mrs. Pemberton was blubbering on about her poor, unfortunate daughter, but only I could see how she fawned under their worry, their sympathy. Diana didn't deserve such a torturous existence. In some way, I was glad she was gone. At least she didn't have to live in such lies any longer.

People that didn't even know Diana well were sobbing over the loss of another beautiful girl, claimed by the hand of Death well before her time on Earth was over. They spoke like they knew her, like they understood her. It made me sick.

Mrs. Ruby was coming towards us, then, and Medda let me go as Ruby handed me a small book. _Goblin Market and Other Poems_ by Christina Rossetti was printed on the front.

Tears trickled down my cheeks and a sob escaped my mouth. I covered my lips with my gloved hand before anymore traitorous sobs escaped. Miss Rossetti was her favorite poet. She'd given me her favorite poems.

"She wanted you to have them, Miss O'Rourke," Mrs. Ruby said gently. "I'm so sorry for your loss."

I stared down at the snow underneath me, wishing for Sean at that moment. I needed to cry. I wanted to cry.

"I just hope Mr. Blanchett doesn't suffer too much for this. Diana's death was so grisly. How would it look if high society knew that his ex-fiancé had committed such an atrocious suicide?" Mrs. Ruby continued.

_Suicide._ She said the 'S' word. In front of me. To me. Mother fuc-

"How can you even care about that bastard? He practically _killed_ her! Him and that stupid mother of hers! As far as I'm concerned, you're no better. You all killed her! All of you!" I shrieked, anger coiling around the sadness. "How dare you make this her fault! How fucking dare you!"

An arm curled around my middle, tugging me from the white hot rage I was currently marinated in. I was trembling, glaring at her, blind to Sean as he murmured into my ear, trying to calm me down. Finally, his words broke through.

"Come on, Liss. It's time to go," he murmured gently. And then, just like an abandoned puppet, I slumped down inside myself, walking away quietly with him, his hand inside mine.

I said nothing when he asked if I wanted lunch. He took my silence as consent and we walked to Tibby's, though I sat beside him while he ate and stared hard into the wood of the table. If people spoke to me, I didn't know it. I just thought about the way the workers so carelessly threw dirt over my best friend's head, not caring that she probably needed to breathe in that stupid hole. And not to mention the fact that she was probably bored out of her mind. What the hell were you supposed to do in Heaven?

Deciding to be brave, I looked up slowly. The first people to find my eyes were Pip and Race. They weren't doing anything wrong, of course, just laughing and talking and every once and a while, Pip would lean against Race in a way that was not _friendly_ at all, and they would share a secret smile. My heart constricted. Yes, Piper deserved happiness and so did Race. They were my friends. They deserved _each other_. But it was too soon for me to see. I didn't want to see that they were becoming close. Not when I knew Diana so achingly wanted to be with Racetrack.

I could feel myself trembling but I couldn't do a thing about it. I felt icy and warm at the same time and my toes tingled inside my boots. I felt like I was going to be sick. I stood up and shuffled outside and into the alley next to Tibby's, retching hard into a trash can I found there. Tears streamed down my cheeks and I slumped against the worn brick, wiping my mouth with my coat sleeve, sobbing softly.

I leaned into the warmth that surrounded me, leaning against his shoulder, not listening as he murmured Gaelic to me. I felt so wooden. It was incredibly frightening feeling nothing. Nothing inside. Nothing outside. Wooden.

"She's dead, Sean. She's not coming back," I whispered. I hated saying it out loud. Hearing it out loud made it real. I didn't want to be real.

"I know, baby. I know," he whispered. "It's all right. We'll be just fine. Me and you, Liss." He leaned back and smiled at me, wiping tears away with his gloved fingers. "Ya know Diana would be pissed if she saw ya blubberin' like this about her."

I cracked a smile but it hurt my face. I was suddenly aware of how cold it was outside.

"I want to go home," I whispered and Spot nodded, pulling me to my feet gently. We walked back into Tibby's together, Spot's hand firmly wrapped around mine.

"Sneak!" Spot barked. The little birdie jumped to attention, rushing double time to his leader. "Escort Angel back to Brooklyn. I'm staying here for a little bit longer. Make sure she gets to sleep."

Sneak nodded, understanding his orders thoroughly. Spot turned to me and kissed the apple of my cheek, but I didn't feel it. All I felt was a tingling sensation, not his mouth. It frightened me. What the hell was wrong with me?

"I'll be home soon. Please try to sleep, Lissa. I love you," he whispered against my ear and then I was gone, ambling beside Sneak as we made the trek back to Brooklyn.

I was so thankful Sneak didn't feel the need to talk to me. He walked purposefully beside me, not saying a word, not looking anywhere but in front of him. The Lodging House was empty, because the winter months meant average (at best) selling days, so most of the boys had to go out and sell the afternoon and sometimes the evening edition to make their normal daily wages.

I smiled half-heartedly at Sneak and then fell hard into my forgiving cot inside Spot's bedroom.

**:-:-:-:-:-:**

In my dreams, I saw her. She was lovely as ever. Her chocolate hair curled into shining ringlets and her eyes twinkling with that mischief that I sorely missed. She was dressed in white gossamer and though she said nothing her smile said it all:

_Hello, Lissie. How are you? All is well. Do not weep. We shall be together again someday. I love you. Thank you for being my very best friend._

I woke up crying, because I knew. I knew that Diana was better off, wherever she was. Be it Heaven or Purgatory, she was safe. No longer bound for a loveless marriage, nor sold to the highest bidder because she was beautiful and in need of money for her family. She finally got what she wanted: freedom. And I couldn't punish myself for that.

Taking up the book of poetry I'd left on the nightstand on top of my music box, I flipped it opened to the dog-eared page she'd marked and read.

_Yet if you should forget me for a while _

_And afterwards remember, do not grieve: _

_For if the darkness and corruption leave _

_A vestige of the thoughts that once I had, _

_Better by far you should forget and smile _

_Than that you should remember and be sad._

I smiled at the page and then nodded. "I will smile, Diana. Thank you," I said, to no one in particular.

I looked up when Spot entered the room, looking startled for a moment that I was awake, then just smiled.

"Hello, Spot," I said softly.

"Hello, Angel," he returned and sat down at the edge of the bed, running a hand down my arm. "How're ya feelin'?"

I smiled. "Better," I said honestly.

Whether or not Diana actually came to me in a dream or not, I would be happy, because I knew she would've been mad if I did anything beside that. In some ways, I knew that the pain would never really go away. But day by day, it would get easier, the burden would be lighter, and I would feel less and less until I could look back on her life and smile, because she was alive, because she was beautiful, because she was my best friend.

And I was content with that. I really was.

I turned shining eyes to Spot, leaned in and kissed him with all I was. I didn't care about the way he tensed in surprise by my action, but I smiled at him when he pushed me back gently.

"What was that for?" he muttered, running his fingers through his hair. I do believe he was a bit flustered.

I shrugged. "I love you."

He grinned and I pulled him back for another kiss. Well, until the door was thrust open and in marched the gaggle of Brooklyn birds, plus Princess. Spot groaned loudly and pressed his face into my shoulder. I patted his head affectionately and smiled at the birds who clamored to the left side of the bed, all smiling at once.

"How are you feelin', Angel?" Mouse asked.

"I'm feeling lovely, thank you," I told him.

"So will ya tell us a story, Angel?" Avery asked.

Spot's head shot up and he turned around to glare at the birds, who all took a simultaneous step back. "Hell no. Not tonight. Angel's tired and she needs to sleep."

"Please?" Princess pleaded. "Just one little story, Spot."

"Please?" they all chorused, giving Spot there most convincing newspaper-selling faces. Spot growled and ran a hand over his face, which made me smile.

"Fine," Spot groused. "One story. Then ya all leave Angel alone. Period."

They all cheered and then clamored onto the cot at once to get a good spot for the story. I grabbed his sleeve before he could get up, smiling at him when he turned guilty eyes to me.

"Ya too damn soft, Conlon," I teased him, throwing the same words he'd thrown me a few days ago. He smiled lazily at me and then ruffled my hair, which was probably all ready completely messed up from sleeping. I glared at the back of him as he left the room, and then turned my attention to my wide-eyed audience of Brooklyn birds.

* * *

_**This chapter is dedicated to my best friend Matthew Albert Harris. Three years ago today, he took his own life because his father couldn't accept the fact that he was gay. He'd be pissed that I put him in my stories as Silver. He'd be really angry. But maybe he wouldn't. We both had a thing for Gabe.**_

**_On a lighter note, I'm glad you guys like my scribblings. I try really hard to write well. :) Keep in mind my casting call that's coming up. Start thinking about your character, because I want it! Teehee._**

_**CTB!**_

_**xx Wicked**_


	3. the baby

**CHESS**

**Chapter Three**

Four days after the funeral, it was almost as if nothing had happened. With the knowledge in my heart that Diana was better off, I went about my days as normal. I sold my papers in the morning, ate lunch with Spot and then went back and lazed around the Lodging House all afternoon, or went to Manhattan to bother the girls since they were all bored to tears now that Pirate went off for one last plundering/pirate adventure with her boys before she finally gave up her title to her first mate.

I was glad. Pirate was a wanderer at heart, but she had grown attached to us newsies in the short months she'd stuck around for. Even one newsie in particular she'd grown most attached to. She and I put our pasts behind us and were now rather good friends, this time with no secrets and no betrayals to put riffs in between us. It was good, because everything was smoothing over in my life.

I was feeling rather good about myself. The day prior, Silver and I walked to Night's house on the way back to Brooklyn, and she told me that she'd rather not continue our sessions together. I was horrified; was I too messed up for her to carry any longer? But she assured me that I didn't need it.

I, Alyssa Mae O'Rourke, was getting better.

She told me it was borderline useless to keep having me coming around when I was obviously strong enough to stand on my own two feet without assistance from her. She told me she was very proud of me, smiling in her sweet Scottish way, and assured me that if I needed an extra ear, she'd always be around to listen. I was so jazzed that I ran all the way to Brooklyn to tell Spot the good news.

The best part was he was proud of me, too.

I'd been living in a happy little bubble after that, a smile plastered constantly on my face so much that Silver actually took time to push at the corners of my mouth to try and get me to stop smiling. Finally, Fire told me that my mouth would freeze that way if I kept smiling all the time. I made sure not to smile so big after that.

Well, I _tried_ living in a happy bubble, until Pip came tearing into the Lodging House one afternoon, panting before she looked at me.

"Angel… Izzy… in trouble," she panted.

I raced back to Manhattan with Pip to the girls' Lodging House. Poor Blink looked absolutely worried to death, pacing back and forth in the lobby, Skittery and Mush trying their best to calm him down but their words fell on deaf ears. He turned worried eyes to me and I gave his shoulder a reassuring pat before I went upstairs to assess the damage done to my friend.

Wendy was walking the floor with the little bundle of a baby, singing in German to her, while Charlie was mopping Izzy's forehead with a cold cloth and Nightshade was checking her pulse with Pip's pocket watch. They all looked up when we entered the room and Night frowned and motioned me over.

Izzy looked so incredibly small, wrapped in blankets but she was trembling like she was ice cold. Her mouse-brown hair looked a little tangled and it looked funny against the pristine white pillow. She had been fine two weeks prior when that baby forced her way out early, demanding entrance into the world. Even Nightshade was pleased at how well Izzy bounced back from the trauma her body endured during childbirth. Her baby girl was plump, pink-cheeked, and healthy as ever.

Having children early was not always a good thing. It usually spelled doom for the child and for the mother, sometimes claiming both lives in the process. But Izzy and Blink's little girl pushed out a fortnight early and both mother and daughter seemed to be thriving rather significantly from it.

Well, until now.

"What's wrong with her, Night?" I asked, sitting down next to Charlie, grasping Izzy's tiny, doll-like hand. It was like fire was licking my hand, yet she was shivering as if she was frigid.

"Heya, Ang," Izzy murmured, peeking at me through heavy eyelids.

"Shush, Izzy," I instructed gently. "You need to rest."

"I ain't no baby," she said, trying to be tough, but a cough rattled in her thin chest and we all grimaced at the sound it made. She sounded awful, but she submitted and stayed quiet.

"It's influenza," Night pronounced and then sighed. "We mus' drive the fever out. Once her fever breaks, she'll be righ' as rain again."

"How should we get the fever out?" Charlie asked, fretting over Izzy nervously, mopping her sweating forehead as she continued to tremble.

"Sweat it out," Nightshade decided. "Have Kloppman come 'round often and boil water fer her at least twice a day, perhaps more. She needs tae soak in it fer aboot twenty minutes. Oh, an' make sure she drinks water. She is nae gonna want tae since she is going tae feel nauseous, but ya have tae make her, 'else she'll get dehydrated, which is nae good."

We all nodded dutifully, all of us remembering her instructions verbatim since we'd have to relay this information to Blink since he was probably chomping at the bit to come upstairs and see Izzy and the baby.

Wendy passed the baby to me and left with Nightshade when she left to be on her way home. Charlie left to go and give Mush the update on Izzy's status and to probably get some moral support. She looked positively stressed out. She and Izzy were pretty securely attached at the hip.

I smiled, watching Izzy push herself to sit up so she could se her baby, careful not to breathe anywhere near the tiny girls nose so she wouldn't contract the disease herself. I smiled sweetly at her, tucking the blanket tightly around the snoozing infant.

"I still can't get over the fact that you gave the poor girl my middle name, Izzy. You've damned her," I teased her and she smiled weakly at me.

"Shut the hell up, Ang. Lillian Mae Parker sounds lovely, don't it?" I rolled my eyes. "Well, _Blink_ likes it, so it don't matter what you think, does it?"

I laughed. "Blink would kiss your feet if you told him too, so of course he likes the name."

She smiled at me in quiet agreement. She'd become rather lovely as her pregnancy progressed. She'd become very serene and quiet, though the second the baby was born, she was back to her usual, silver-tongued ways. We all liked her best when she was a bit mouthy.

I stood up to hand the little bundle to Blink when he entered the room, smiling at him because he looked so incredibly nervous. Izzy was now dozing quietly, trembling slightly ever few minutes but Blink readily took up the station that Charlie left, patting her forehead with a cold cloth, holding Lily in his other arm.

Sidling down the stairs, I smiled as Pip inhaled cigarette smoke like a mad woman. She looked nervous as well and Charlie sat with Mush on the curb, talking quietly. They both looked nervous as hell, and frankly, I was nervous, too. It was kind of a wake up call to all of us; we weren't invincible and we did get sick. And we were poor and had no money to take her to the doctor, save for Nightshade.

It was just horrible that it had to be Izzy after she'd just had the baby. It wasn't fair to her. And it wasn't fair to Blink, who was probably losing the color in his hair from nervousness and stress.

"Keep me up to date about Izzy, you guys. Let Sneak know when he makes his rounds," I requested, to no one in particular.

Pip smiled wryly. "Will do, Ang."

I tipped my hat at all of them and then took my leave, heading down the block to the boys' Lodging House, where they all waited anxiously to know the diagnosis. Jack stood up when I reached the top step to the bunk room.

"How's she doin'?" he asked.

I bit my lip. "Not good. It's really hard to see her so weak. Nightshade's callin' it influenza. But she doesn't look nervous about it. We must've caught it early enough," I reported to the waiting newsies, who all heaved a collect sigh of relief. "The girls are going to sweat the fever out. Night said that once the fever breaks, she'll be just fine. Influenza is mainly about the fever anyhow."

Okay, so I was talking out my ass, but I figured it was anyways. Nightshade wasn't worried about the cough; she was worried about the fever. So I assumed that influenza was mainly about breaking the fever apart and then every other symptom would clear up straightaway on its own.

I hoped.

I said my goodbye to them as well and then headed out once more, this time towards home. I pulled my coat and scarf tighter around myself as I crossed the bridge, the breeze off the East River a little more frigid than the rest of the air. Poor Jack looked like he hadn't slept in days.

He'd never admit it, but he was missing Pirate. All of us girls had actually pushed Pirate back onto her ship, convincing her to take one last little voyage before settling down to be a newsie instead of a vigilante. She wasn't actually going to go, since she and Jack had gotten consistently closer over the months. But we convinced her that it was for the best, to let her grind out that one last adventure before settling into the monotonous life of peddling papes for a few pennies.

Not that I had any room to talk. I loved being a newsie. Every day was different, exciting and challenging. That coupled with the fact that the most sought after man in all of New York (and probably everywhere else) loved and wanted _just me_. That definitely helped make this life more enjoyable. I wouldn't have it any other way, honestly.

I made it home in record time, stomping my boots on the rug just inside the doorway, smiling when Silver picked me up and spun me around in greeting.

"We missed ya, Angel!" Silver crowed.

I laughed. "I was gone for two hours, Mr. Harris. Calm down!"

He smiled at me and then set me down. "Well, either way. We missed you," he said, tossing a grin at Spot who was headed down the stairs, eyes shining when he looked at me. "Oh," he said, as an afterthought. "A package came for you, Ang."

I blinked a few times and pulled my feet from my boots as Silver handed me the wrapped white box. I was confused. Who'd be sending me a package? I wasn't expecting anything. Perhaps it was something of Diana's she wanted me to have. Some little shallow trinket that she'd left to me. A brooch or a cameo perhaps. Something so incredibly Diana.

Regardless, I untied the twine that held the box shut and pulled the top flap open. A piercing scream reverberated through my ears and I was shocked to realize that I had been the one screaming. The box slipped from my hands and I staggered backwards, acid in my throat.

From inside the box, a bloody human heart rolled onto the floor, a jagged letter _A_ carved into it.

* * *

_**It's the beginning of the plotline! Finally! xD**_

_**Thanks for the love last chapter. Oh, and teehee for my evil-ness and cliffies, no? Now you know why Lissa screamed, if you've all read the little sneak peak I posted at the end of S.O.S. I really love you guys. Seriously, you all make my days with your sweet words.**_

_**CTB!**_

_**xx Wicked**_

**_P.S. - My casting call shall be in the next chapter, because, well, it will make sense more then. And I want to get next chapter up soon so I can work in all your lovely characters. I do so love CCs. Don't you? Well, yes, and you love fast updates of death! xD. SO be ready with those characters for me to steal, dahlings! Oh, and I'm sorry my luffaly BFF Izzy for making your character sick. Just a little plot bunny of mine. And Worried!Blink is just a cutie, no? :) I love you!_**


	4. the warning

**CHESS**

**Chapter Four**

The three most terrifying words I'd ever heard escaped the lips of Nightshade. And I hated it, because it terrified me:

"A donae understand."

Spot was pissed as hell, pacing back and forth, muttering in Gaelic, but even I, who understood the language, couldn't understand what the hell he was talking about. He wasn't making any sense, and I felt terrible. Why did everyone have to worry about me like this? It wasn't fair.

"What do you mean, Night?" Silver asked, the brave one. I couldn't speak. My tongue felt thick in my mouth. How could she not understand?

"A mean," she said, tossing a worried sideways glance at Spot. "It does nae make any sense. The letters on the hearts do nae even spell anything."

There had been four more hearts that came to me in the past two days, wrapped up so nicely, with letters carved into them, clear as day. It made me sick, and it made me scared. Someone was after me, and I didn't want it to be Johnny. Spot said before that Johnny wouldn't kill me, because he was a coward, but now I wasn't so sure. And it looked to me as if Spot wasn't sure himself, and I didn't like that.

She spread out the piece of paper again, with her lovely penmanship scrawled across it. The five letters were there:

A-S-I-L-E

It made no sense. It didn't even spell anything. Silver and I leaned in to look and then sighed at the same time, sitting back.

"It doesnae make any sense," Night repeated.

"We all know who it is." Spot's voice was a bark and it made all three of us jump at its severity. "So let's go and soak the shit out of the Bronx."

"We can't do that, Spot," Silver said calmly.

"Why the hell not, Harris? Someone is obviously threatening _my girl_, and when you threaten her, you threaten Brooklyn. Or didja forget where ya loyalty lies?" Spot hissed and continued pacing.

"Because, Spot," Silver said, glancing up at him, not willing to get angry and make matters worse. "We can't just run into the Bronx half-cocked and start soaking. You of all people know that. Ain't good technique."

"To hell with technique!" Spot threw his hands in the air, and I was almost positive that he might start growling. "This ain't no game. They can't fuck with my girl, Silver. I don't take that lyin' down. They need an attitude make over. They obviously have forgotten who they's messin' with."

I stood up and stood in the way of his pacing. He glared at me and walked around me to continue.

"Spot, I know you're mad—" I started gently.

"Damn right I'se mad!" he shouted.

I put my hand on his chest, peering up at him calmly from under my hat, waiting for him to calm down. His whole body relaxed physically which would've been funny had this not been so serious. He looked up at me and I saw the weariness in his eyes, the way his brows knotted together with worry. He watched me watch him, knowing what I saw.

"I am mad," he said, much more calmly. "But this isn't somethin' I'm takin' lightly. There's someone that's gettin' his kicks off scarin' ya and I don't take that well."

I knew why he was getting so pissed. He didn't want me to live in fear anymore. Fear of everything. He didn't want me to look over my shoulder or jump at every single sound, like I used to. He wanted me to be safe, so he could fulfill his promise to his father and probably be able to sleep at night. But this wasn't helping things.

"Spot, I'm fine," I said, mostly to convince myself. "It's all right. There's no good reason for you to be pissed. Nothing's happened. I'm right here."

He nodded. "Yeah, for now you're here. For now."

I sighed, indignant, but I sat back down beside Silver on my bed. He paced for a few more minutes, thinking.

"We ain't telling Jack about this. Not yet. I want to see if any more of those… things come," Spot decided, after a while, his voice considerably less caustic.

Nightshade nodded and stood up. "Let me know the second any more come. A'd like tae help," she said and then left the room when she earned Spot's weary nod of agreement.

"Silver," Spot said, when Night left the room. Silver looked up expectantly. "If any more hearts come, we'll have to get the help of the mud larks. If things get any more out of hand, Angel is gonna have to go into hiding."

Silver nodded dutifully and then took a half step towards his leader, like he wanted to comfort him, but Spot waved him off, stalking to the window, pulling a freshly rolled cigarette from his trouser pocket. Spot Conlon only smoked when he was pissed.

"Come on, Ang," Silver said, pulling me gently from the room. Spot didn't object and I didn't expect him to. I closed the door behind me and followed Silver back down the stairs.

"Silver, what is a mud lark?" I asked quietly.

Silver smiled at me. "Sewage rats," he explained. "They live in the sewers, scouring it for money or interesting things they can trade for dough. They live _under_ Brooklyn, actually. Spot only asks for their help when things get really bad."

"Can we trust them?" I asked.

"Yeah, they may live dirty, but they'se loyal as hell to us after we helped them fend off some intruders down there." Silver shrugged. "They don't like coming to the surface, as they calls it, but they owe us."

The boys started a card game but I wasn't in the right mind of games right now. I told Silver I was going for a walk for a little while, and hugged him goodbye. I donned my tweed coat and gloves, wrapped my scarf up nice and tight around my neck, pulled my boots on and left the Lodging House.

I stuffed my fists into my coat pockets, trying to sink further into the warmth of my scarf. The cold air was biting as always but I straightened myself up, squinting as the snow began to fall.

The streets were abnormally bare, most likely because it was nearing dusk and the air was getting colder by the second. Nobody wanted to be out walking at this time of the evening, plus with it being so frigid. But the cold air kept my senses about me, which gave me time to think. I knew without a shadow of a doubt that Johnny, or someone from the Bronx, was sending those hideous little gifts to me. But I _still_ didn't know the reason why Spot and Johnny were fighting.

I hadn't asked before, because I felt it wasn't really any of my business. Spot had a life that I was not a part of for a long time; so much could have happened in that time. I knew that, and I respected his privacy. Some things I didn't need to know. Perhaps I was still a bit naïve to ways of the street, even with my pick pocketing 'skills'. I wondered if I should ask Spot about the thing with Johnny. Now seemed a fabulous time to ask him about it.

But would he answer me? Or would he make up some reason that wasn't the real reason? I hadn't any reason to mistrust him. He and I had gotten along swimmingly since the moment we got back together near the end of the summer.

I was pulled rather abruptly from my thoughts when a hand shot out and gripped my elbow. I was yanked into an alleyway and I glared blindly into the dark.

"Silver, this is not a good time to be messin' around," I warned him.

"Angel, it's me. Dodger. Dodger McCarne."

I took a step back and crossed my arms, my eyes adjusting to the shadows as I realized that it was indeed Dodger. What the hell was he still doing here?

"I thought you skipped town years ago," I said shortly.

"Jersey City wasn't all it was cracked up to be," Dodger said, smiling wryly. "You grew up, though, Angel."

I rolled my eyes. "What do you want?"

He nodded and stuffed his hands into his pockets. "I'm here to warn ya, Angel. I know the Bronx has been teasin' ya, and I'm here to tell ya: turn yourself in now."

I frowned. "How do you know about what's going on between us and the Bronx?"

Dodger smiled. "I know as much as I needs to, Angel."

That was not going to suffice it with me. "Why in the blue hell should I turn myself in? I ain't no prize, Dodge."

"Angel, ya ain't listenin' to me!" he insisted and pushed me back against the brick wall. I glared at his hands on my shoulders and then up at him. "I'm tellin' ya as a friend: turn yourself in."

I continued to glare. "We were never _friends_, Dodger."

"Then as one newsie to another!" he hissed impatiently. "Listen, Angel. There's a huge ass bounty on your head. This ain't no game. It's the real world. Whoever captures you…"

He stopped and I frowned. "Whoever captures me… what?"

"Whoever captures you," he said, pausing and glancing away nervously. "Gets a piece of you once Johnny is finished."

I steeled myself as I felt the rush of frigid air seep into my bones under my tweed coat. I felt very, very cold, and very, very scared. I shrugged his hands from my arms.

"Thanks for the tip-off, Dodge, but I have to get back to Spot," I said, eager to get off the streets.

I walked around him, hauling ass a bit since now I was scared. I stuffed my fists into my coat pockets and shuddered slightly, glancing around slightly, just in case.

"Trust no one, Angel! Anyone could be workin' for Johnny!" Dodger called after me.

I spent the jog back to the Lodging House composing my emotions. I decided that I would tell no one of my encounter with Dodger McCarne. I was selfish; I didn't want Spot to get even more pissed and start swinging fists. I wanted to avoid a confrontation when there needed to be none. I just decided that I would always be with someone when I walked out, which wasn't a big problem.

I sold papers with Silver every day, and when I wasn't in Manhattan, I was slinking around Brooklyn with the King himself. I was hardly ever alone, which didn't matter to me much anyways. I'd rather be with my friends than by myself nowadays.

Playing martyr wasn't really my style, though. I wasn't noble in the least, and I definitely wasn't the type to go down swinging to save someone else's skin before my own. I was a selfish, teenage girl and I was okay with that. But Sean was different. I would step in front of a bullet for him without a second thought. I just cared too much. I loved him. Nothing wrong with loving someone, and wanting to do anything you could for them.

I supposed it was noble of me, sort of, but I didn't feel noble. If anything, I felt satisfyingly selfish. I'd come to terms with the fact that I was selfish a long, long time ago. And I was okay with it. I actually preferred being selfish, really. Selfishness was a more satisfying feeling than nobility was. I smirked, thinking of the inscription that I would have on m grave: _Alyssa Mae O'Rourke; Queen of the Selfish (and Brooklyn)._

I shrugged out of my coat once I returned to the Lodging House, hanging it on my usual hook between Spot's coat and Silver's coat. I smiled, wondering why the hell I was always in between those two. If it wasn't one boy busting heads to save my ass, it was the other. I supposed that would never change, no matter what.

"Angelface!" Silver crowed, motioning me over. I shuffled over to him after stepping out of my boots and he tugged me down on his knee.

I smiled at him. "You've been drinking."

"Have not, m'dear," he replied cheekily.

I rolled my eyes. "Where is Spot?"

"His Royal Asshole-ness is on the fire escape."

I flicked his cap off and then headed up the stairs. I hated seeing Spot in this sulky typed mood, so I decided to take it upon myself to fix it with the only sure-fire way I knew of. I smirked slightly as I trudged down the rows of bunks and into Spot's room, gaining more confidence with every step. I frowned, though, when I realized the window was open, and then shuddered since the room was abnormally frigid.

Was he off his rocker?

I slid out the window onto the fire escape, watching him smoke for a moment. He didn't look back at me, and I wondered for a moment if hew knew I was there at all.

"I really ain't in the mood for your shit, Silver," he said harshly.

Okay. Wondering over.

I ignored his callous words and sat down behind him and tugged his cap off gently, placing it on my own head.

"Silver, what the hell—?" He turned slightly and we watched each other for a long moment before he turned back around and leaned into the vee of my legs.

Taking this as a good sign, I leaned forward, draping my ams across his chest, my fingers absently playing with the skeleton key around his neck. I rested my chin on top of his head and he sighed.

"You're not wearing a coat," I said quietly, tenderly running my fingers through his hair. I was really worried about him. He was acting so strange.

"Oh, yeah? Didn't notice," he muttered, no humor in his voice.

He flicked the cigarette away from him and I leaned in against him, my cheek pressed against his ear. He gripped my hand and we stayed like that for a long time, enjoying the innocence of the moment. This was our calm before the storm, just us, together. As corny as it was, I hoped I was helping. I was terrible with comforting people.

I had never seen him act this way before, though. He was usually so sure of himself, the confident quirk of his mouth, the cocky-ass nod of his head, his arrogant stance. But this man, sitting against me, frowning and looking down-trodden, was not the man I knew well. I didn't like it. But I was going to fix it.

"Come inside with me," I invited quietly.

"Angel, I ain't really in the mood to play cards or drink or be around the boys," he said, sounding weary.

"I didn't mean come downstairs. Just… come inside. It's cold out, and getting colder," I said gently. "Please, Sean." I think it was the name that worked it over for him.

Leaning back, he stood up and I followed him back into his room. Turning slightly to watch when he planted himself heavily on the edge of my bed, I then closed the window and locked it before returning to him. I sat down at his feet and ignored his burning, questioning gaze on the top of my head.

"Angel, what are you doing?" he asked but I ignored him, unlacing his shoes and pulling them off his feet and then went after his socks. I placed the shoes side by side near the wall and stuffed his socks into them.

Continuing to ignore him, I stood up and leaned over him slightly, tugging his shirt from his trousers. He gripped my hand and I looked down at him curiously.

"Stop it," he said, but there was quiet amusement in his eyes. I was winning this battle, and I wasn't about to stop now.

I tossed him an amused look of my own and slid into his lap carefully, nimble fingers unbuttoning his shirt. I pushed the sleeves from his shoulders and ignored the stiffness in his body, pressing my lips carefully against the hollow of his throat. He made a strangled noise, and I took it as consent, moving my mouth to his shoulder, placing a rather deliberate kiss there.

His whole body shuddered once and then he pushed me away. I stood up, not even missing a beat.

"Baby, ya gotta stop that," he said hoarsely.

I was enjoying myself much too much to 'stop that' so I walked to his bed, grabbing the warm afghan laying on top, walking it back to where he was sitting. I was enjoying his flustered look, so I pulled my trousers off as usual and climbed back into his lap, wrapping the blanket around the both of us.

"Are you ordering me, Conlon?" I teased him, setting my head down on his shoulder. "I really don't like being ordered around, Spot."

"Angel, I know what ya doin' and I want ya to stop," he said, still holding himself stiff against me.

"You're still orderin' me, Spotty." I ran my hand against his arm and felt, and watched, him shudder.

"I mean it, baby. Stop." He continued to protest, but I was having none of it.

A slow, saucy smile crept to my lips and I leaned up to his ear. "This would be so much nicer if you played along," I whispered and then bit his earlobe playfully.

It was like the dam broke inside him, because a shocked cry escaped my lips when his hands slid immediately under my shirt, pressing against the heat of my lower back. Shuddering slightly, I leaned back, which made him drag me back against him, his mouth finding mine. He kissed me for an eternity, getting everything out of him, before he gripped my hips and pushed me back a little bit, to get himself to stop.

Pulling me back, he panted quietly against my shoulder and I smiled smugly, resettling my head on his shoulder, waiting for him to get over himself.

"So do you feel better?" I asked coyly.

He groaned and then bit my neck. I shrieked in surprise and flew backwards onto my backside, pulling him with me since we were wrapped up in the afghan. A full, honest laugh escaped him and I smiled at him when he gripped my hand from between us and kissed it gently.

"Yes, I am."

* * *

_**D'you just love the fluff in this chapter? I do. I couldn't resist. I wanted to give Spot and Angel some sweetness, since it's going to suck later on for them. But that's okay. Lawl. I hope you guys liked it. It was fun to write. Woot for my flustered Spot!muse!**_

**_Oh, and BTW, send luff to Elaine Vivian who pretty much demanded another chapter, thus this chapter is up a few days before I wanted to put it up. Woot for demanding things of me! She gets an extra Spot!muse hug. Just go easy on him. He's a bit flustered. :)_**

_**CTB!**_

_**xx Wicked**_

**_P.S. - My CC is on my profile. Make sure to send your characters via PM. I hate it when I have a cluttered review page with OCs. So all OCs sent to ANY of my review pages will not be used. Anyone who sends me an OC to steal gets a Spot!muse hug! :)))_**


	5. the matchmaker

**CHESS**

**Chapter Five**

The next afternoon, after selling with Silver, we returned to the Lodging House to retrieve Spot, who'd been done selling for at least an hour, and sidled off to find somewhere to eat lunch. It was funny.

Ever since last night, I'd been wondering what was happening in my brain. Ever since the day Nightshade informed me that I was getting better, I had been coming to terms with the fact that I wanted to sleep with Sean. I felt like a tart, but I knew I should n'thave. He was my boyfriend. I was allowed to sleep with whomever I damn well wanted to, but the actual _act_ of sleeping with him was hard for me to grapple with.

Yes, I wanted to sleep with him. I mean, come on, have you _seen_ him? How could you NOT want to? I could see rather easily how he could have New York's girls swooning at the mention of his name. He smirk, or do some arrogant, cheeky-ass thing and girls were sent giggling all over the place. I would include msyelf in that, but I didn't giggle, no matter how many endearing things that boy did. And he did quite a few.

But I was kind of worried about the sex thing. Sex itself was something I detached easily from, having to shut off myself when my father came creeping into my bedroom at night. If you didn't count incest, I was still a virgin. I hadn't felt this sort of feeling for any other guy. I hadn't felt this way about anyone, honestly. I figured that was a good thing. It meant we were destiny, or some shit.

Right?

But walking beside Spot with his arm firmly around my shoulders, I kind of wondered what it would be like to sleep with him. To see him in the most vulnerable way a person can be, knowing it was me he wanted, feeling that it was me he wanted.

I had read romance novels, yes, but this was different. This was my life. _Our_ life. The thought of sleeping with him overwhelmed me, but it the same way I wanted it to overwhelm me. It was a good feeling, the tingling, nervous, excited feeling I got when he kissed me, or when he walked into a room and his eyes searched for me instantly, out of instinct.

"You think too much."

I blinked, pulling out of my thoughts when I realized Spot was smiling at me. I blushed slightly and he kissed my cheek, laughter in his eyes. I pushed my musings aside and sat down at the table when we reached a little restaurant.

"Angel, I gotta talk serious shit with ya for a second," Silver said. I nodded seriously and waited for him to continue. "Well, Angel, you're kind of a girl, right?"

I glanced down at myself and, ignoring the fact that Spot glanced as well, looked back at him. "I think so, yeah."

He didn't laugh, though. "I need your help with a girl thing."

I gave him an odd look. "Silver, if you're on the rag, then you might want to ask Nightshade about that. I don't think that's normal."

"Angel, this is serious," Silver said, giving me a glare. "Please be serious."

I nodded, covering my smile with my hand. "All right, all right. Serious. Right now."

"I want to ask Nightshade to Medda's Christmas shindig," he blurted.

I ignored Spot when he choked on his water beside me, covering his laughter with a sputtering cough. I rolled my eyes. Some people would try to cover the fact that they were an asshole. But not Spot Conlon. Nope, that man was damn proud of his bastard-like charm. God, would he never get over himself?

"So ask her to the damn party," I said.

"What if she says 'no'?" Silver sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. "I mean, I don't even know if she likes me!"

I snorted. "You are so daft. How can you not see it?"

"So you think she likes me?" He jumped at my comment, reading too much into it.

"I didn't say that," I hedged and then smiled at his sad look. "Why don't you just ask her? She's allowed to say 'no' but what if she doesn't? You like her, so tell her. Girls hate it when guys like them, and then not tell them." I gave him a pointed look.

He nodded and then sighed. "Will ya come with me to ask her, Angel? I can't face the rejection alone if she does turn me down."

I leaned back and crossed my arms. "Fine, but she won't say 'no'."

We ate lunch quickly because Silver was getting antsier as time passed and Spot was consistantly more pissed off as time went on. Silver was shaking his leg in anticipation and so shook the table, which irritated Spot for a reason that escaped me. Eventually, I had to cut the lunch short because Spot looked about ready to lunge across the table and slug his best friend in the face. I dragged Silver into the Lodging House when we returned, insisting that I take it upon myself to dress him up nicely and make him presentable.

"Ya know, Conlon, if I was into your girl, this would be totally sexy," Silver said airily as I dragged him by the hand, and I rolled my eyes.

"Less talking. More dressing," I said impatiently, and then shoved his good clothing at him. "Put this on. I want to see how it looks."

I sat down on his bed and crossed my arms, waiting for him to change. When he did, though, I stood up and smiled at him. He flopped his arms at his sides in embarrassment and sighed.

"You look very nice, so shut up," I told him, smoothing his collar down and dusting at his shoulders.

"Do girls really like it when guys dress up just to ask them to a damn dance?" he asked.

I nodded. "Yes, we do. It shows that you care."

He nodded glumly and I tilted my head at him. He sighed and I grinned, tugging him down the rows of bunks. He growled slightly as the boys began teasing him about his nice clothes.

"Lookin' good, Silv! Hot date?"

"Yeah, Silver. Who's the lucky girl? Can I get a piece of ya when she's done?"

"Aw, shuddup, ya damn bastards! He's allowed to look nice when he wants to!" Fire shouted, when she and Spot reached the top step to the bunk room.

Spot trusted Fire, and I swear if Silver didn't exist, she'd be his second in command. No shit. He told me that he was planning on telling her about the situation with the Bronx, just to hear her opinion on the whole deal. It was great of Spot to do. He had his own opinion, plus Silver's of course (being official second) and then Fire's, just because he trusted her with his life and she was possibly the most level-headed girl I'd ever met, other than Nightshade. Even if she flew off the handle quite frequently, earning her rightful namesake plus her fiery red hair.

Fire had collateral with the mud larks of New York, so her word would be listened to more than Spot's. And it seemed she was just fine going to them on Brooklyn's behalf, just to make peace with the new queen of the mud larks, who'd apparently just been appointed not too long ago.

I wasn't too sure how much I trusted these alleged mud larks, but everyone seemed to speak cooperatively of them, so I was in no position to judge. I just didn't want to get screwed over by them. I knew what it was like to be a thief, to have to lie and cheat to get what you needed to get, and they sounded shady in their business. But, then again, I had no room to talk. I hadn't been with Spot too long to know politics and such like this.

I smiled my goodbye to Spot and Fire and then half-dragged Silver across Brooklyn to Nightshade's house. I waited in a nearby alley across the street while Silver went over and asked her to Medda's dance.

I watched her smile at him and I think she blushed, which was funny, but I saw her nod. And that was the best part. I crossed my arms smugly as Silver stumbled over himself back to me, shaking his head.

"Maybe she's sick. That's why she said yes," Silver said, babbling nonstop as we walked back to the Lodging House together.

"She didn't look sick," I said patiently, still grinning smugly to myself.

"Well, maybe she was smoking opium. I heard that shit is serious as hell," he said.

"I doubt she was smoking opium, Silver."

"Well then how in the blue hell do you explain why she said yes?"

"Because she likes you."

"That's a bunch of shit, Angel."

I shrugged and walked into the Lodging House, pulling him in with me. He was still muttering and shaking his head, pulling his coat and his boots off at the door. The Brooklyn birds followed him like dogs, pestering him about Nightshade's answer. _What'd she say? What _you_ say?_ They kept talking all at once until Silver reached the top step of the stairs and let out a giant growl.

"SHE. SAID. YES."

The birds cheered and I laughed, shuffling into the smallish kitchen of the Lodging House, making myself a glass of apple cider that Parks' wife Millie had made for us newsies. She always was around making hot chocolate and apple cider, for something warm when we'd come in from a long day (or long morning, in Spot's case. He never took long to sell papes, no matter what season. Bastard) of selling papes.

"Yum." I beamed, licking my lips.

Apples were potentially my favorite fruit in the history of fruits, so apple cider was just another apple-typed thing I liked. I like apple pies, apple fritters; anything with apples, I will consume. Plain and simple.

I smiled when Fire entered the room, watching her pull herself onto the counter beside me. She wrinkled her nose at my glass of cider.

"That shit any good?" she asked.

I nodded and took another luscious gulp. "Mhm."

She took the glass when I handed it to her graciously. She brought it to her nose, sniffed once and then handed it back almost instantly. "Ew. Pass."

I laughed and took another greedy gulp. "So how rolls it?" I asked. "Are you going to talk to these mud lark people?"

Fire smiled and nodded. "Yeah. Last year, they tried recruitin' Smooth into their little gang 'cause he was a good fighter, but he wasn't havin' none of it. Him and Race are too good of friends for him to just up and quit bein' a newsie," she explained. "We've been on good grounds with 'em, though, which is good. I know their new leader, Raccoon. Always knew she'd be their new leader, after Satin passed her crown off."

I looked down into my glass. "Can we trust the larks, Fire? I mean, I know they're your friends, but their job sounds really shifty. Can we trust that they're going to back us if we have to go to war?"

Fire didn't speak right away, like she was thinking about her words and choosing them carefully.

"Well," she began. "They used to be really shady. A decade or so back they used to be mixed up with the Five Points. Bulls gutted the larks' hideout and they weren't around for a bit. Until what's-her-bucket before Satin, but they aren't mixed up with the Points no more. Better off, too. Lotsa dirty things went down in the Points."

I nodded. "Yeah, I know."

Three years ago, they got shut down for crooked, rigged political agendas and horrid crime beyond anyone's belief. Good thing, too, because though I wasn't a part of it, I knew it wasn't a place you wanted to be caught alone, unarmed, and being a woman in.

Fire smiled. "But don't worry, Angel. Conlon doesn't sink his feet into every damn thing like Kelly does. Can't do that to us, y'know? Cares more about us than anything; he's always had our best interests at heart. He'll think about it more, probably lose some sleep over it, and come out on the right side. Always does, you know."

I nodded and smiled, appreciative of her wisdom and her insight into things that I wasn't sure how to tread. At this point, she knew Spot more than I did, so I trusted her word. And I was all right with that, because she proved herself a trustworthy friend.

I wanted to learn everything about him, so that one day, I could know exactly what she was thinking, what he was planning on doing, and how he was going to do it, just like Fire did.

* * *

_**So I had trouble with this chapter. So, in the middle of this chapter, I grabbed my Newsies DVD (which I'm in love with!) and put it on. And I've decided I have a new favorite part. How sad. It's the part near the end where Jack goes scab, and all the boys find out. Just watch Spot the whole time. And when he jumps and starts freaking out... Gawd, he is just so sexy. xD. How wrong is it that I get hot and bothered when that boy is pissed?**_

**_Moving on..._**

**_I forgot to mention last chapter that the whole mud lark thing is my tip of the hat to Joker is Poker with a J's story called Infamous, which is a fabulous story! :) I think I'm finished with this A/N. Thanks for reading!_**

_**CTB!**_

_**xx Wicked**_

**_P.S. - I'm still looking for characters. So visit the bottom o fmy profile, fill out what I've asked for, and send those characters to me via PM! All those who've given me their chracters, you will see them next chapter. Promise. :)_**


	6. the dance

**CHESS**

**Chapter Six**

The next day, pretty much everyone took off selling to help decorate the Lodging House for Christmas. Parks had been putting it off, and with only a few days until Christmas, Millie pushed him to do it. The birds were content to help Millie make the Christmas cookies, so that left the rest of us to decorate.

I swear, I had never seen so much tinsel in my entire life. Newsies never did anything halfway, so there was tinsel all over the damn place, the shiny silver of it making my eyes hurt.

Silver found the mistletoe buried under some Christmas tree ornaments and, grinning wickedly, explained the rules of it to us: Anyone caught under it, must kiss. No matter what. Two girls caught under it, must kiss on the cheek, and two boys caught under it must give each other a 'manly' hug.

I smiled, enjoying the atmosphere that Christmas always presented. Rummaging through the boxes, I found what I was looking for: the box of ornaments. Christmas in Ireland was drastically different than Christmas in America. And, as was snow, ornaments were something foreign to me as well. I loved the little glass angels, the silver bells, and even the jolly nutcrackers.

So I must have looked rather silly sitting on the floor, next to the boys who were struggling to get the Christmas tree to stand, pawing through the box of ornaments like a child in a toy store.

Once I was thoroughly satisfied in looking at the ornaments, I stood up and went upstairs, snagging an unused candle I found lying around. I placed the candle in the window near my cot and smiled in spite of myself.

_"What's that for, Mama?" Lissa asked, tugging on her mother's blouse sleeve._

_Her mother smiled at her cute accessory of a daughter. "The candle in the window lets Mary and Joseph know that they can stop and rest here."_

_Smiling, Lissa nodded and watched the wick of the candle ignite when her mother pressed the match to it._

I blinked and shook my head to clear my thoughts. I hadn't thought much about my past life, so it felt odd that I would think on it now.

"Hey, Liss."

I turned slightly and smiled at Spot, who had entered the room. He smiled at the candle and then pulled me down on the edge of the bed with him. I would have teased him about his wanting to be alone with me, but it looked as if he had something important to say so I held my tongue to keep in the snide comment.

"I gotta ask ya somethin', Liss," he said seriously. I raised my eyebrows, prompting him for explanation. "Well, okay. You know the shindig Medda's throwin'?" At my nod, he looked away and sighed. "Well, I was thinkin' that maybe, you know, you'd wanna go together... or somethin'."

I blinked and then started laughing. "Spot Conlon, we are together, in case you forgot. I would be offended if you didn't go to the dance with me."

"No, Lissa," he said, touching my knee gently. "I mean, _together_. You and me."

I stood up. "Sean, this is going in circles. I just told you—"

"_No_, Lissa." He stood up as well, his eyes begging me to understand. "I mean… you and me go together. Not with Brooklyn. Just… us."

I blinked a few times as it all clicked. Yes, we'd gone to get-togethers as a couple ever since we'd gotten back together. But never together, by ourselves. We were either walking in with his boys, or we'd meet up there and sit together, of course. But never like this. I was shocked, and surprised.

Flicking my hair over my shoulder in mock haughtiness, I sniffed in offense. "I was beginning to think you'd never ask, Your Highness."

His shoulders slumped and he crossed his arms. "Is that your minx way of sayin' 'yes'?"

I laughed and headed for the door. "Figure it out, Conlon. You ain't the leader for nothin'."

I stopped at the doorway and then turned back to him. "Ya don't have a cigarette, do ya?"

Spot turned slightly and snorted. "Nope, sorry."

"Liar."

I trotted down the steps, ignoring his laughter after me, and pulled my coat on to head outside. I stepped out of the Lodging House and smiled at the pair across the street. Sammy Brown had come to Brooklyn a month ago, bringing her best friend Burnin with her. She was pretty, but I was working on not comparing myself to every girl friend that I had. It wasn't good for me to do; not healthy.

"Pull!" she shouted.

Burnin tossed the dark brown whisky bottle into the air. Sam's reaction time was fabulous; she pulled the gum band of her slingshot back and the marble sliced through the cold air, shattering the bottle. She grinned as the shards of glass fell into the snowdrift near the Lodging House.

"When the snow melts, Conlon's gonna be so pissed!" she cheered and laughed, punching the air with her fist as if it were her sole mission in life to bother the hell out of Spot.

Burnin smirked at her cheekiness and then waved at me. I shuffled over to them and Sam turned when she noticed. "Come back for a fix, have ya?"

I smiled. She knew me too well all ready. "I must be really predictable."

She nodded and produced a cigarette from the breast pocket of her vest, along with her matchbox. I accepted both gratefully and stuck the lit cigarette between my lips, inhaling deeply.

Yum, burning nicotine in my lungs.

"Ya know, Angel, Sammy here ain't going to the shindig tonight," Burnin told me, leaning against the building nearby. He crossed his arms and peered at me from under his bright hair when I looked over at him curiously.

"Why the hell not?" I asked him and then turned to Sam, who'd thrown another bottle into the air and shattered it with a marble, just as quick as when Burnin had thrown the bottle. "You love parties, Sam. Why not go to this one?"

"Ain't too keen on wearing a dress, is all," she said simply. I smiled at her use of the word 'ain't'; she hated using _newsie-speak_ as she called it.

"Well neither am I, so we'll wear trousers together," I told her, earning me an award-winning little Sam-smirk.

"Well, besides that, Scar's gonna be there," Burnin told me. "Sam falls all over herself around him. She doesn't want to go because it insults her pride."

I laughed. "You mean that guy from Queens?"

Sam's mouth twitch in an almost-smirk. "Maybe."

I laughed. I wouldn't have pegged Sam as the kind of girl to get embarrassed by the way she acted around a boy. I also didn't peg Sam as the kind of girl to fall all over herself for a boy.

"Scar is a frightening man who enjoys frightening young children. He's perfect for you," I old her, and she tossed me a semblance of a smile. Not quite a smile, but more than a smirk.

"He follows me like a damn dog," she told me. "And it makes me feel odd."

"He insulted her pride the last time he was around," Burnin said, grinning when Sam shot him a look of death. "Said he wanted to keep her safe and all that shit. Because, you know, Sam does get herself in some seriously bad shit sometimes."

I nodded, remembering a few days ago when Spot yelled at her for ten minutes straight for 'accidentally' collapsing a building that was abandoned.

"I don't like being reined in. It's obnoxious and awful. I will never be tied down to a man," she promised, tossed another bottle and shattered it with purpose.

Burnin gave me a knowing look and I tipped my hat and walked back into the Lodging House, cigarette in my mouth, and I was happy as a clam.

"Angel O'Rourke! What have I told you about smoking in my Lodging House?" Parks shouted when he saw me smoking.

Grinning, I extinguished the cigarette against the hell of my boot and kept the other half of the cigarette into my pocket for later.

**:-:-:-:-:-:-:**

Spot was good on his word, however, since that night, we entered Irving Hall after the Brooklynites made their entrance. It was delightful, and I beamed quietly as I clung to his hand. Spot gave me a knowing smile when I descended the stairs in my best trousers, laughing as he pressed a kiss to my mouth.

The party was all ready underway, and I was enjoying the cheerfulness that filled the air. I turned to Spot and smiled at him, leaning into his ear.

"Get me a beer?" I asked innocently.

He snorted and then left my side to get me a drink. I turned and barreled myself into Charlie, who gave a shout of surprise and then hugged me back when she realized who it was. Mush peeked up at me from around her shoulder and I took a step back when I realized Charlie was only holding my hug with one arm since her other hand was occupied inside Mush's. Goodness, they were so sweet together.

I barely had time to turn around when Piper bounded herself into my side, swinging her arms around my neck in a silly hug. Racetrack pushed through people to keep up, and I smiled at him. He had much to learn if he was ever going to keep up with Pip.

"Merry Christmas, Ang!" Pip shrieked. I was so glad I wasn't in Manhattan for her spazzing about Christmas. It was her favorite holiday; I swear it was.

"Merry Christmas, Pip. I've missed you," I told her.

She smiled sweetly at me and then left my hug to pull Race away to some of the Queens people. He tossed his head back and mouthed 'help me' and it made me laugh out loud.

"Angel!" a voice called to me. I looked up and smiled when I saw Mirror heading towards me, pulling her tall, dark and handsome beau with her.

She was the only girl friend of mine that wore a dress to this party. Thank God. We all couldn't be cheeky bitches that wore trousers all the time. I was thankful for her feminine side. We exchanged hugs and smiles.

"How've you been, Mir? The boys treating you good?" I teased her. She cleaned the Lodging House for Kloppman, who paid her a pretty penny to do it. I didn't blame him; that Lodging House was filthy.

"Of course. Now that she's mine, I ain't lettin' none of them touch her," Bumlets informed me, tugging her to his side with a grin. He was so incredibly handsome.

Mirror blushed, and I found it endearing of her. She was beautiful.

I turned, yet again, when I was tapped on the shoulder and beamed as the beer was placed into my hand. "Thanks, Spotty."

"Sure thing, doll." He smirked and then pulled me to the table with Jack and Dave.

I sat down and smiled at the both of them. "Heya, boys."

"Hey, Angel," they both said at the same time.

I down my glass of beer rather easily, smiling at the taste as it burned a path down my throat. I set the glass down and then stood up.

"I'm going to dance. Don't wait up," I told them, giving the trio a cheeky salute before bounding off to find someone to dance with me.

I grinned when I found Sam sitting at a table, with a very cute boy with silvery hair. She played the part of annoyed girl very well, since he was talking animatedly to her and gazed at her adoringly, but when he turned his head to take a drink, she smiled this secret little smile, which dropped immediately when he turned back to her. Ah, so this was Scar.

I laughed quietly to myself, enjoying that information, until a hand wrapped itself around my elbow. I stopped walking, thinking it was Spot, and turned around to face him. Only, it wasn't Spot.

It was like the wind was knocked out of me, staring into his dark eyes and a frightening little grin pulling his mouth up. I could smell the whisky on him, and I suddenly very aware of the large hand on my elbow.

I could hear his words in my head, from the night a few months ago: _I will have you eventually, Angel. Mark my words._

"Well, well, well. We meet again, darling," Johnny said, his voice oddly clear in the loud room.

"Get off of me," I told him, trying to glare, but I probably looked pathetic doing it. Why couldn't I be tough like the girls I knew?

"I don't think so, kitten. Look," he said, pointing above us, and then grinned down at me. "Pucker up, princess."

I followed his eyes and then frowned when I noticed the mistletoe above us. Swiping my tongue across my bottom lip, I nervously resumed staring into his eyes. His grin was feral, and I was reminded, once again, of my father. He was like a snake, flicking his tongue out into the air to taste my fear. And I was damn sure he could taste it.

"I don't think so," a new voice said from behind Johnny. I couldn't tear my eyes away, but I knew it was Sean. Oh, the impeccable timing of that boy.

"Spotty, so nice of you to join us," Johnny said, sounding amused, and held my elbow a bit tighter. It didn't hurt me, but I winced slightly, and was sorry I had. He grinned again. "You're just in time for the show."

"There's about to be one if ya don't get your hands off me girl." His voice was dead calm; he was angry.

There was movement to the left of us, and I was vaguely aware of three large Brooklyn bodies moving towards us, but my eyes never left his. He seemed to notice my fear and, enjoying it, smiled at me as if we were old friends.

"Whassa matter, Conlon? Makin' ya nervous or something?" Johnny taunted him, not looking over his shoulder at him, but I could see that Spot wasn't going to rise to the bait, regardless of how pissed it made him.

"Nah. Just gonna have the boys escort me girl out so she won't have to see me soak the shit outta ya like I did when I ran ya outta Brooklyn," he replied easily.

Johnny's jaw worked in annoyance, but he said nothing.

"Now get your damn hands off my girl," he repeated, his words clear of accent. He meant business, and if were talking to anyone else at that moment, I would have shuddered at the ice in his words.

But I reeled backwards when the vice on my elbow was lifted, and I found Silver waiting for me as I stumbled back into his arms. His arm wound around my waist and he turned his body sideways, like he was shielding me from Johnny with his own body.

Johnny wasn't very swayed, though. He touched the brim of his hat in mock tip of the hat, smiling. "I'll see you soon, Miss Lissa O'Rourke."

I blinked a few times, not sure how he knew my Christian name, but it left me feeling rather frozen on the inside. Spot stiffened just slightly as my name rolled from his tongue, but he pushed his emotions back down behind the carefully crafted mask, and glared at Johnny as he melded back into the shadows. The whole thing took seconds, but I saw it; I knew him too well.

Spot gave the trio of large Brooklynites a quick nod of the head, and they followed in Johnny's general direction, creeping on the edges of the shadows.

We didn't stay much longer after that, which was just fine with me. I wasn't in the partying mood after the Johnny encounter. And nobody seemed to mind that Spot and I bowed out early. In fact, they all whistled and gave Spot pats on the back, but he only gripped my hand tighter, whistling one sharp note. We waited at the door until I felt a body beside mine and looked over to see Sneak, waiting patiently for his next orders.

We walked across the bridge together, both boys saying nothing to me, and I checked out for the rest of the walk. When we arrived at the Lodging House, however, I was surprised. It took a good twenty minute walk, more if you didn't hustle, and it seemed shorter.

I frowned when I saw the little, tiny boxes, six of them, all lined up in a neat row, waiting for us when we got there. Spot let go of my hand and threw his hat on the ground in irritation.

"Sneak!" he barked.

"I'll go get Nightshade," Sneak said glumly and then took off into the night.

* * *

_**I really like this chapter. It's long and fun. Too much fun writing it, honestly. And I love Christmas. :). Okay, let's see. Burnin and Sam belong to BrennaBerr. Yay for that. And Mirror belongs to Elaine Vivian. Yay for new characters! I'm leaving the CC on my profile, just in case some of you creepers still would love to join. :) Yay creepers!**_

_**CTB!**_

_**xx Wicked**_


	7. the meeting

**CHESS**

**Chapter Seven**

Nervously, I walked beside Spot, heading into a part of Manhattan I didn't even know existed. It looked shady, and it made me seriously nervous. I was all ready nervous, though. Spot didn't sleep at all last night, glaring and pacing the entire night. I only asked him to come to bed twice, before I gave up. At some points, there was just no consoling Spot Conlon.

He was smoking as we walked, and I kept my eyes on the ground, just like he told me to before we began the trek here. We passed shady looking characters, who sneered at Spot as we passed by. We stepped over drunken but distinguished–looking gentleman who had passed out outside the pub.

Spot tugged roughly on my arm and we ducked under some dirty rags that covered the doorway of the building like a makeshift door and I coughed when we entered the murky room. A large man sitting behind a counter grinned at Spot when he entered.

"Thought ya said ya'd never do opium, Conlon," he called, laughing.

I shuddered, realizing where the hell we were currently at. The whole place stank of every foul thing you could think of. Men lounged in their stupors on ratty old mattresses, some with cheap prostitutes hanging all over them, inhaling thick smog from a pipe.

"Ain't here for that, Chin. Ya know that," Spot said, seemingly unaffected by the foulness in the air. I pressed closer to him.

"All right, all right. Just think it'd be mighty nice to have that cane of yours," Chin said, laughing, also unaffected by the smog and the stench. "They're in the basement waitin' for ya."

Spot tugged me through a doorway I hadn't seen and down some cement steps and I was suddenly aware of the dampness of the basement we were in. We reached the bottom of the stairs and came to one room, with a large round table. Sitting at it were Jack, Patch, and a girl I did not recognize.

I sat down slowly and slumped slightly as Spot sat down beside me. I tugged my hat off and ran a nervous, trembling hand through my hair. I had tucked it under my hat because Spot had said it was easier to try and conceal my femininity the best I could.

"You must be Angel. I'm Raccoon, queen of the underworld," the girl said, extending her hand after spitting in it.

Spit-shaking was a sign of friendship. You _always_ shook hands with someone who spit in their hand first. It was an unwritten newsie rule, I supposed. Anyone I'd ever spit-shook with had been very nice, and a good friend.

I spit in my own hand and shook with her. "Good to know ya," I murmured.

She grinned and sat back in her seat, crossing her arms. Raccoon was so obviously named because of her large brown doe eyes that seemed to see everything at once without having them move at all. It was unnerving, but she seemed friendly enough.

"So let's cut to the chase, Conlon. What's going on?" Patch asked, all pleasantries aside now.

"It's like this," Spot said, leaning forward and talking with his hands. I was endeared by this, of course, but this was neither the time nor place to be charmed by his seemingly useless, yet adorable, behavior. "The Bronx is making waves, like I knew they would. They're sending us human hearts with letters cut into them. We've been sending them to Nightshade, to get her brain working on what the hell it could mean."

Every face in the room grimaced at the grisly picture Spot was painting for them. Yes, it was terrifying, but they needed to know what was going on. And I was quietly endeared by the way he argued his point. I held back the flush of embarrassment, though. But I couldn't help it. There was hardly anything that Spot did that I wasn't endeared by.

"What do ya want us to do, Spot?" Jack asked, after a few moments of thinking.

"I need ya to keep your eyes peeled. I know this is hard to do, to bring you guys into it when ya ain't done nothin' wrong," Spot said, sort of apologizing, but almost not.

"We owe ya for the strike, Spot," Jack admitted. "Ya didn't have to help but ya did. "

"I don't see it that way, Jacky-boy, but I appreciate the support," Spot told him.

"I guess, in a way, we owe ya, too, Conlon," Raccoon spoke up, frowning in thought. "You can always use the underground if ya need to. My men won't say nothin' about it."

Spot nodded. "Thanks, Raccoon."

Patch shrugged. "Well since everyone else don't gots a problem with it, then I guess I can't either."

The tension was lifted as everyone laughed, even Spot managed a chuckle, probably appreciating that the dark cloud was lifted from everyone.

"So Spot, ya never did tell us, what's up with you and Johnny? What are ya fightin' about?" Jack asked, and I felt the tension return when Spot's face was devoid of emoion.

"Something stupid that happened a long time ago," he said coldly and frowned. "It ain't worth repeatin'."

He tossed me a quick glance and I didn't miss it. He frowned again, as if he wished I would've missed it.

"What about Lucky?" Raccoon asked, switching subjects. "Staten Island ain't with us?"

I frowned this time, thinking back to the conversation Spot had with Lucky this morning, when we'd went around, asking the leaders o met us and discuss things.

_"So," Spot said, after explaining what was going on. "I was wonderin' if you're behind me, whatever I plan on doing."_

_Lucky frowned at him and then looked straight at me. "I don't think so, Conlon. Brooklyn's getting' a big head. I think ya asked for what ya got."_

_Spot nodded and pulled me backwards when he took a step back. I realized then what had just happened: he had just chosen his side, and it was not ours._

I blinked and looked around at everyone, pulling my brain back into the conversation.

"So does Staten Island really think it has a chance against us?" Patch asked, frowning as he leaned back and crossed his arms. "I mean, them and the Bronx are going against Queens, Brooklyn, Manhattan plus we have the underground with the larks. They don't stand a chance."

"Maybe not, but they ain't gonna back off," Raccoon said, tossing Patch a skeptical look. "Staten Island is on the other side of Brooky. They could get attacked easily that way, if the west side isn't defended. That's where we'd come in. We own The Narrows."

"But we're on their east side," Patch argued. "We can defend them just as easily." He looked at Spot. "I can send some of my best fighters for ya. They won't attack us. Their beef ain't with us; there would be no point to attack us."

Spot nodded, his jaw working as he thought hard. "You're right, Patch. They ain't gonna attack you guys."

"They won't attack us, neither," Jack put in, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "But they might use Manhattan to get to Brooklyn. But we'll head 'em off, of course."

"They could have spies, too. Or traitors or double agents. Now that it's practically war, anybody could be working for anybody."

Every pair of eyes turned to look at me when I finally spoke. I shrunk back a little in my seat, suddenly frozen from so many people watching me.

"She's right," Raccoon said, surprising me. Her large eyes watched me carefully before she looked back at Spot. "We can trust no one."

Spot nodded his acknowledgement to her statement. "You're right, Raccoon, that's why I've only called you all here. I trust that you all know who can be trusted in your newsies, or otherwise."

Patch nodded. "This ain't no game, kids. We'se all gotta stick together, just like the strike, 'else we'se all gonna die."

"Carryin' the banner, eh fellas?" Jack grinned wryly.

"Carryin' the banner," they all agreed.

I covered my mouth and nose with my coat sleeve as we passed through the opium den once again, thoroughly grossed out by the fact that we had just had a meeting underneath such a horrid place. I couldn't look around, the smog burning my eyes. When we reached the frigid air, I sputtered slightly as I tried to inhale the clean air, rubbing the smoke from my eyes.

"Good God, that was awful," I told Spot seriously, and then gave him a weird look. "How'd you know about that place?"

His mouth pressed into a grim line. "Bad habits."

I looked back at the den and, frowning, looked back at him skeptically. "You used to smoke opium?"

He shook his head. "No, but I used to hang out there."

He didn't offer another explanation and I didn't ask for one. I decided it was one of those things that he used to do when we forced apart by Fate, or whomever it was that decided to separated us for so long.

"So what are we going to do now?" I asked after a few moments of walking beside him in silence.

"I'm not sure," Spot admitted. "But I'm working on it."

I nodded. "I think it's good that Raccoon and her boys are going to help us out. That secures out west side, and our east side is covered by Queens," I offered, hoping to strike up some sort of conversation. The silence was absolutely maddening.

"You're right, Angel. It is a good thing. I'm going to need her help now that Staten Island isn't with us. Not that I thought Lucky would. He's always been pushing a bit for the Bronx anyways." He sighed. "But I got Queens and Manhattan. And then there's us."

I bit my lip and smiled brightly. "Nobody messes with Brooklyn, yeah?" I was hoping to get a smile out of him, something that to prove to me that he wasn't about to take the whole of this problem onto himself like he always did.

"You're right, Angel," he agreed after a few moments, tossing a smile my way. I was so thankful for that lazy little smile that I nearly threw myself at him. But I held my tongue, and my heart, and merely smiled back. "Nobody messes with Brooklyn."

* * *

_**Short chapter is ick. I know. I'm sorry. But this chapter was needed, so you could could see the progression of the plot a bit. :) I'm leaving the CC on my profile, just in case some of you creepers still would love to join. :) Yay creepers! I love all of you who reviewed. You get a Spot!muse hug!**_

_**CTB!**_

_**xx Wicked**_


	8. the 'fight'

**CHESS**

**Chapter Eight**

I sat quietly on the last step in the Brooklyn Lodging House, waiting for Spot who was talking to Silver upstairs. We were off to talk to Nightshade, for whatever reason. Sammy sat beside me with her head on my shoulder. It was comforting in a way, and I appreciated her momentary soft side and leaned against her. She has just spent nearly an hour arguing rather passionately with Spot about her position, or lack thereof, in the newsie war we had coming fast on the horizon.

Spot didn't want her to fight, though she had proved herself a rather tough little nut in her short time with us here. All Brooklyn girls had to be tough; it was a way of life, and sort of an unwritten rule, I figured. Both Sammy and Fire could fight with the best of the Brooklyn boys, but Spot refused to let either of them fight.

That's when Fire joined the spewing of venom and both girls ranted at the same time about how tough they were, how they could hold their own, how Spot needed to stop being such an ass and let them fight. But Spot waved his hand and they instantly stopped fighting his decision.

He told them that he couldn't afford _any_ of his girls losing their lives in this pointless blowout with the Bronx. He was right, however. He had originally wanted to go in this fight, just trying to protect me, but he had everyone to worry about, and I was learning that what Silver had said to be in the beginning was true. Spot Conlon was loyal as a damn dog.

He would go down fighting for Brooklyn, because it wasn't just his livelihood; it was who he was. Brooklyn was his life. No, he _was_ Brooklyn. And it was one of the things about him that I respected so fiercely about him.

Some of the Brooklynites had gotten a little nervous when Raccoon had brought some of her boys up to the surface to help duke it out above ground with Brooklyn. Spot had to explain to everyone briefly about what was going on, and that the mud larks were on our side, so they were free to come and go as they pleased, since they weren't under the direct leadership of Brooklyn.

But the mud larks were rather respectable chaps; they told Spot that they would listen to him while they stayed in the Lodging House. And Raccoon nodded her consent, even though she'd told them she had expected that in the beginning.

I rather liked Raccoon, actually. She was different at the meeting held the day prior; she was witty but smart. Now, she held her chin high, the mantle of leader set firmly on her small shoulders. But she held it with pride, and the essence of her being seemed to coincide rather nicely with her role of leader.

Some people were born leaders. I was not one of those people, thank God.

Sammy and I both stood up when we head footsteps on the stairs behind us. We both watched Spot Conlon descend the stairs, Silver following hot on his heels.

"Come on, Angel. Time to go," Spot said, swinging an arm around my shoulders. He steered me towards the front door and we donned coats, hats, gloves and scarves before finally making it completely out of the Lodging House.

We didn't speak much on the way there, but his hand was firmly around mine, and he let that be enough. I was vastly worried about him, because Fire had predicted Spot right. He had to lose sleep before things became clear to him. He had, thankfully, come to bed when I asked him to, but I doubted he'd slept at all.

I didn't ask him about it, however, as we made our way to Nightshade's house. I was shaking inside, though; I wasn't entirely sure what Night was going to tell us, good or bad. I was hoping that Nightshade would slap us both and say "don't worry, kids, it was all just a silly dream. You'll wake up soon." Only, well, not like that. In her cute Scottish accent, but, well, you get the point.

Nightshade was waiting for us when we reached her neck of Manhattan, however, sitting outside, her luxurious raven hair dwarfed by a large red bow that matched her red velvet dress. She was beautiful, with her cinnamon freckles littering her cheeks and nose, and her strange, omniscient violet eyes.

She rose as we approached and Spot clasped her hand in greeting, offering Night a smile which she returned with a warm smile of her own. She took both of my hands between hers and smiled at me.

"Hullo again, Lissa," she said, and I enjoyed the way my name sounded on her tongue. Her brogue always endeared me so to her.

It wasn't lilting and musical like the Irish accent, rather it was a bit more brusque and hard, but in her pretty voice, it sounded sweet to the ears and I found myself beaming back at the warmth of her smile. No wonder Silver was so enamored by her. She was a lovely girl.

Nightshade motioned us inside and I stepped out of my boots at the doorway, minding my own business until I realized that Night had pulled Spot close and was whispering into his ear. I didn't catch what she told him, but they shared a conspiratorial look and Spot nodded slightly, once, before heading down the hallway and further into Night's house.

I hung my coat up in her coat closet and crossed my arms, giving her a pointed look when she turned her too-innocent eyes to me. "Wha'?" she asked, applying more accent because she knew it wormed its way into my heart.

"You know exactly 'wha', Nightshade. What did you tell him?" I demanded.

"I do nae ken wha' ye are talkin' aboot, Lissa. A was merely talkin' tae me friend, or are ye jus' jealous?" she teased and skipped into the sitting room.

I stomped my foot once and then followed after her, sitting down on the small sofa beside her. I silently thanked God that I had washed my clothing the day before; I didn't feel as bad sitting on her nice clean furniture with my dirty newsie clothing. Not that she ever seemed to mind.

"A have a present fer ye," Night said excitedly.

I kept my arms crossed and sat back, slanting a glare at her. "Don't change the subject, Lara. What the hell did you tell Spot?"

The innocence was back on her face and she tilted her head like a puppy who was listening for odd sounds nearby. "Honestly, Lissa, ye are so quick tae jump tae conclusions. Nae, open the damn present before A explode."

"Fine," I groused and took the box from her lap.

I tossed her a begrudging look and then pulled the lid of the box off. Gasping in shock, all anger fading, I pulled the purple afghan from the box. It was much larger, and warmer, than Spot's ratty old thing and it would fit my cot much better. And it was _purple_.

"You remember my favorite color." I was touched. I almost started crying. "Lara, this is beautiful. Thank you so much."

She shrugged and waved her hand at me playfully. "It was nothin', lass. A am rather good at crochet, an' A needed somethin' tae do in me spare time."

I laughed. "You have spare time?"

She grinned. "Nae much, but A do have it."

I leaned over and hugged her tightly, delighted in my present. And, God, it was purple! I loved purple.

"Goodness, you can crochet, you are a doctor. Is there anything you can't do, Night?" I asked her, smiling as I rubbed my cheek against the warm afghan, delighted with my gift.

She gave me a shy smile. "A can nae play poker tae save me life."

I let out a bark of a laugh, but I realized she was serious. I blinked a few times and she laughed slightly.

"Kind of silly, ye ken?"

"Not at all," I told her and placed my hand over hers in her lap. "I'll teach you sometime," I promised.

I straightened when Spot entered the room, stuffing a folded piece of paper into his trouser pockets. I narrowed my eyes at that but stood up, setting the box aside. He seemed in good spirits – well, better spirits than he had when he got there – and gave me an award winning smile.

"Ready to go, Liss?" he asked.

I nodded absently and moved for the door, pulling my coat on, trying to understand the intricate and complex workings of the mind of Spot Conlon. Nightshade leaned against the door post and smiled at me.

"A'll have Silver bring yer present back tae the Lodin' House tonight, Lissa," she said sweetly and beamed.

"But—" I was cut off abruptly by Spot, who gripped my elbow and then smiled at Nightshade.

"Thanks for all ya help, Lara. We'll be in touch," he said, and then forced me out the door in front of him.

We reached the sidewalk and I pushed his hand off of me to demand to know what the hell was his problem was, but he was halfway down the block, leaving me standing with my mouth open.

I hurried after him, having to haul ass to keep up with his quick gait. I slid in front of him and put my hands on my hips.

"What the hell was that for?" I shrieked, and then gave his arm a shove.

Now, I wasn't one for causing scenes in public. Being a pick pocket required me to slip in and out of places unnoticed by the general public. The less people watching, the easier it was to steal everything. Which, naturally, explained my abhorrence of the spotlight. But this demanded my questioning.

"Lissa, calm down," Spot said, placing his hands on my shoulders.

"Calm down? Don't tell me to calm down, you git!" I shouted and pushed his hands off me, giving him another push for effect. "What gives you the damn right to just manhandle me all over damn New York City mgmmff—?"

I was abruptly cut off, yet again, but this time by something a little less annoying. Spot had pulled me in close against him, leaving no room for movement. My face was pressed against his shoulder and my arms were pinned at my sides, and he was holding me steadfastly. What a bastard.

"Now then, at the risk of being hit again," Spot said slowly. "I would like to explain myself. I am taking ya somewhere special for Christmas Eve. And I asked Night before to keep ya present safe while I took ya out." I stayed quiet, and he must have taken it as a good sign, because he kept talking. "Does that explain things better?"

I nodded stiffly once and he let me go. I gave him a hard look and crossed my arms. "So where are we goin', Your Highness?"

A grin split his face and I immediately forgot all crossness with him. He looked so handsome when he was smiling.

"A good place. Come with me."

He took my hand and we walked straight through Brooklyn to Prospect Park, something I hadn't expected. Confused, I gave him a look but he wasn't looking at me. Near the middle of Prospect Park was a large glass building; something I'd never seen before in my entire life. We walked inside and I was immediately surprised by the number of birds inside.

"It's an aviary," Spot explained, smiling sheepishly. "I found it the other day and I thought it'd be a good Christmas present. Do you like it?"

I gave him a silly look. "You bought me the aviary?" I teased him.

He smiled at me and then pulled me in deeper. The aviary was like its own forest, full of lush greens and fresh vegetation. And so many birds! I was thrilled. This truly was the greatest present I'd ever gotten.

I turned to thank Sean for his thoughtfulness but found him nowhere to be seen. With a strong sense of déjà vu welling in the pit of my stomach, I searched nearby for him. Thankfully, unlike last time I'd lost him, I found him again, sitting on a bench, holding a pretty gray and red finch in his fist, petting his head.

He smiled up at me. "Look, Lissa. The thing actually came to me."

I sat down next to him and pulled a seed from the bag of sunflower seeds he'd brought with him. I offered the seed to the finch, who gobbled it up so greedily that it made me jump in surprise.

Laughing softly so as to not upset the bird, I sat back and smiled. "I love you, Spot Conlon."

He tossed me a cheeky smirk. "Everyone does, doll."

I rolled my eyes. "So much for that moment."

He kissed my cheek. "_Nollaig Shona Dhuit_, Lissa."

Sighing, I decided I couldn't be mad at him when he spoke Gaelic to me. The bastard knew all my pressure points, and then used them against me. What an incredible ass.

"Yeah, yeah. Merry Christmas," I muttered and he laughed, letting the finch go.

We stayed in the aviary for a long while, feeding larks and sparrows, catching a few more. I was even a bit giddy when I caught one myself, having to be shown how to hold him so as to not ruffle his feathers. It was great fun.

I shuffled along beside Spot in a much cheerier mood than I had been previously. Being with him made every negative feeling sort of dissolve from my brain, which could be a good thing and a bad thing. But right now it was a good thing. With thoughts of the potential war pushed to the back of my brain, I decided to enjoy the moment while I had them.

Before we reached the door of the Lodging House, however, Spot held me back, much more gently this time. I hadn't noticed it as I was walking, too giddy over my own musings, to notice the mildly angst-y expression that currently took residence on my leader's face.

"Lissa, I need ya to do something really terrible for me," he said, pulling the piece of paper that I'd seen him stuff into his trousers back out. He pressed it into my hand and turned his tortured eyes to me. "Don't look at it until this is over, all right? It'll explain everything."

I nodded mutely, not understanding what the hell was happening. Was he going to break up with me?

"Just play along, all right? I need you to do that for me. And for the love of God, Lissa O'Rourke, please forgive me." It sounded like he was begging me. Spot Conlon was _begging_ me.

"I forgive you," I whispered.

He nodded slowly and then the horrible expression evaporated from his face, tucked behind his mask. He glared at me and nearly mauled down the door.

"Damnit, Angel, why can't ya ever just listen to me?" Spot shouted, loudly. "Why don't ya ever just do what I say? Ya always have to fight me; ya never listen. Jesus, what do I gotta do to get you to respect me?"

I blinked a few times, shocked, until a rage took over me. "Where the hell do you come off sayin' that I don't respect you?" I shouted back, pulling my coat and my boots off. He was halfway up the stairs, cane in hand. "And stop walking away, you bastard!"

"I'll do what I want! I'm the damn king!" he bellowed, and I marched after him, blind by my effort to play this game with him, even though I hadn't a clue why.

"No king is good without his queen. I make you who you are, Spot Conlon," I hissed when I reached the top of the stairs. "You said it yourself: I make Brooklyn bright. If it weren't for me, all these damn kids would be cowering in fear of you because you're such a bloody monster!"

"Hey, I never asked ya to stay, Angelface," Spot said, changing tactics, tossing me a lazy, conceited grin. "Ain't my fault ya bed anything with a pulse. It don't matter how they deliver the request, you'd bed 'em."

"You arrogant asshole! How dare you talk about Angel that way! You're a lucky son of a bitch to have a girl like her!" Fire got up, her eyes shooting sparks at Spot. Smooth got up to hold his sister back, but he was glaring at Spot, too.

"Ain't that cute?" Spot mocked. "Fire's comin' to your rescue, dollface. Some rescue." He snorted in amusement.

"Shut your damn mouth, Conlon. So help me God, I will _bust_ your ass!" she shouted and he laughed, leaning right into her face as he did it, but Smooth restrained his sister a bit tighter, this time with both arms as she started flailing to get free.

Spot rolled his eyes. "Pack ya shit and get the hell out of Brooklyn, Angel. I'm done with ya. Go bother Patch; he takes stupid girls in. And take your girl friends with ya. Shoulda known better than to let girls be my newsies."

Fire was seething with white hot rage but when Smooth let her go, she didn't tackle Spot like I thought she would. I touched her arm and she stomped down the stairs. I looked up to see Sammy pretty much seething as well. Burnin's hand was wrapped tightly around her forearm, like he was afraid she'd get lose and start busting heads open, staring with Spot's.

"Ya got somethin' to say, babe?" Spot sneered at her. She spat at his feet and his hand twitched upwards, like he wanted to slap her, but he just laughed. "You can join ya little friends, then. And take that kid with ya. I'm done with girls in Brooklyn. Now get the hell outta my Lodgin' House."

"With pleasure," Sammy growled, stalking towards the stairs in anger.

Princess was cowering in a corner, no doubt terrified of Spot Conlon and his sudden rage. I picked her up and walked her down the stairs, setting her back down at the bottom when she seemed a bit less shook up.

Fire and Sammy were exchanging colorful words to describe Spot as we walked out of the Lodging House, but I was too busy reading the note Spot had given me before this all exploded:

_Lissa,_

_Fighting with you is the worst feeling in the whole world. I hate seeing the hurt in your eyes, knowing it was my words that hurt you. But I had to do this. You see, I suspect there is a traitor in Brooklyn, and I couldn't risk your safety. I've been putting it off, but it needed to be done._

_I'm so sorry if I've said anything that actually hurt you. I will find a way to make it up to you when this is all over. I promise, Lissa._

_Oh, and Nightshade's father told me what the hearts all meant, and what was up with the letters in them. It was an anagram:_

_A-S-I-L-E-N-T-S-S-I-X = LISSA IS NEXT._

_Forgive me. I love you._

_-S_

I nodded slowly and pocketed the note. "Girls," I said, to get their attention. "We're going to Manhattan. I have a plan."

"What're we gonna do about Spot?" Sammy asked.

I smiled at her. "I'll explain everything when we get to Manhattan."

**:Whip pan to 3rd person!:**

To say that nearly every newsie in the room was mad at Spot Conlon would be the understatement of the century. But Spot retreated to his room and closed the door behind him, sitting heavily on the empty cot that used to have Lissa sleeping in it regularly.

He kept telling himself that this was for the best. Kicking her out was for the best. But he was faced with a difficult choice: let Lissa stay and watch her die, or 'kick her out' and hope that she doesn't get caught in the scuffle. He worried, though, that his ruse would be found out. He didn't want that to happen, but he had to make a choice. And this seemed like the best option.

The door was opened then and he looked up, surprised to see Raccoon standing in the doorway. He came to her quickly. "Raccoon, what's wrong?"

"One of me men is dead, Conlon. It was the Bronx," she said, her guilt evident on her face. She was blaming herself for the death of her fallen comrade.

Spot nodded slowly and clasped her shoulder. "It's official now, then, Raccoon. We're at war."

* * *

_**The Nightshade scene was actually, literally PUT IN to this chapter. I had it written a different way, and then Miss Vivian demanded more of my supporting cast, and so there she is. She'd better enjoy it; it made this chapter longer. (It was six pages on Microsoft Word! Gahhh!) -shakes fist- Damn you nice people for forcing me to write long chapters! Lawl, I'm totally kidding.**_

**_And I usually like to be historically correct, but I went to the aviary a few days ago with my BFF and was inspired. I love birds. :)_**

_**CTB!**_

_**xx Wicked**_


	9. the ghost

**CHESS**

**Chapter Nine**

The next morning, I got up early as usual, to go meet up with Jack before the bell started ringing. I shuffled the two blocks from our Lodging House to the boys' down the street. Jack was waiting for me, leaning against the brick outside with his hands stuffed into his pockets.

I spit in my hand when I reached him and we shook in greeting. "How ya doin', Jack?" I asked, and then smiled. "How much sleep didja get last night?"

He shrugged. "Enough."

I nodded and then stuffed my hands into my coat pockets. "So I came to tell you about what happened last night."

"Yeah. I'm guessin' the two of you didn't actually break up," he said and then cuffed my shoulder gently. "Ya ain't all down about it."

I smiled. "Nope, we didn't," I answered. "But something is going on; I'm not sure yet what that is, but I'm planning on finding out."

"Of course ya are, because ya can't help but be nosey sometimes," Jack said and I nodded in agreement.

"But Spot did find something out when we went to Nightshade's yesterday," I told him. "The letters on the hearts spelled out _A Silents Six_. But it was an anagram."

"Ana-what-a?" Jack's eyebrows shot up in confusion.

"An anagram," I said slowly. "It means that the letters in a phrase or name can be rearranged into another phrase or name."

"Okay," he drawled. "So what does _A Silents Six_ mean?"

"Lissa is next."

"No shit!"

I shrugged. "I dunno what it means. Does it mean I die next or my heart gets cut out next?" I sighed. "Either one sounds awful. I don't exactly want to die."

"Then why did Spot kick you out of Brooklyn, though?" Jack thought out loud. "If you're next, wouldn't he want you around so he can be all obnoxious and follow you around?"

I shrugged again. "I dunno, Jack. That's what I plan on figuring out."

He nodded. "Well thanks for lettin' me know, Angel. Maybe I'll go talk to Spot myself, and get this figured out."

"Sure thing," I said. We spit shook one last time and I moseyed away down the street, trying to decide if I wanted breakfast or not.

I knew it was a bit stuck up of me, deciding if I wanted to eat or not since there were kids that didn't have a choice. It was Christmas, and there was hardly anything open, if anything. And it was much too early for the nuns to be out. Even the streets were barren. I felt so badly for the kids that didn't do anything else but sell papers. The newspaper tycoons didn't print a Christmas Day edition, so there was no papes to sell. At all.

I sighed and stuffed my hands in my pockets. We would be lucky if any of us got to eat at all today. Everything was closed down, and the only thing we had for Christmas was the party Medda held for us a few days prior. We may have been blessed after the strike, since Pulitzer and Hearst decided to be nice to us and hold banquets and parties and such for us, but even they were busy with their own affairs that day.

I turned when I heard a _meow_ from behind me, seeing our friendly little tabby cat bounding through the snow towards me. I laughed, wondering how he'd gotten the nerve to travel from Brooklyn all the way to Manhattan, and I wondered where his little white mate was.

I sat down on the stoop of a store that was closed down for the day and he jumped right up into my lap. I patted his head, his orange fur a bit wet from frolicking through the snow like he was. He looked cold, so I picked him up and walked him back to Duane Street, letting him loose inside so he could get warm, and bother the boys.

I shuffled off in the opposite direction this time, just following my feet. I pulled my hat down a little lower on my head as a chilly breeze swept over the snow drifts, kicking snow up while the air nipped my face. I wasn't paying much attention, but when I looked up I realized I was at a cemetery.

_The_ cemetery.

I walked the familiar path to the familiar headstone and pushed snow out of my way until I hit the cold earth. I sat down on my knees in front of the headstone, using my scarf to wipe snow from the face of the headstone. I pressed my hand against the cool, smooth surface, feeling her there.

I smiled and looked up, seeing her materialize in front of me. The scent of gardenias invaded my nose, such a familiar smell, and she grinned, sitting quietly on her headstone. I knew it was probably very, very wrong that I could see her, but I didn't care at the moment. I needed to see her.

"Hello, Lissie," she said, her voice sweet and full of sugar.

"Hello, Di. Merry Christmas," I told her, looking up into her nearly-translucent face.

"Christmas?" she asked, shocked. "It's Christmas? God, I've been gone long."

I nodded quietly, and then looked at my hands. "I think I'm going crazy," I confessed to her. "I shouldn't be able to see you."

"Nonsense, Lissie. You and I were like sisters," Diana laughed, but it prickled me the wrong way. Her voice was starting to frighten me. "It was only a matter of time before you could start seeing me again."

Mutely, I nodded.

"So how is Spot Conlon, Lissie? Is he still dreamy and delicious?" she asked, giggling again. I glanced up and her eyes flashed, changing to a milky white with bright blue around her pupil. I blink and her eyes return to cinnamon brown. I looked at my hands again.

"He's fine."

Her laughter pierced the air and I glanced around, hoping no one else could hear her. The cemetery is empty. Of course. I lifted my head to look at her and found her ghost-face inches from mine. I leaned back, swallowing hard. Her eyes are milky-white again.

"Don't worry, Lissie. You and I will be together again," she whispered.

I blinked again and she was gone, evaporated into the air. It was like being slammed back into myself, because I found myself sobbing violently into my hands, my hiccups and sobs sounding as if I were retching the contents of my stomach after a particularly bad night out drinking.

Had I been crying this whole time? Did I even see Diana, or had I imagined it? I leaned against the headstone, terrified that I was going insane. I hadn't properly dealt with my grief, not really, so perhaps it was coming back to me, stronger now because I had pushed it away? I couldn't deal with it now. There was the Bronx to worry about and Johnny who apparently wanted to kill me.

I had no time to go insane. _Maybe later,_ I told myself. _But not now._ Now I had to be strong. I had to be strong for Sean, for Sneak, for my friends. I had to be strong because I knew if I wasn't, I would crumble down inside myself and I probably wouldn't be able to get back up.

You could only pick yourself up so much before you just lie down and die. And I wasn't about to die. Not yet.

I pushed myself off the ground, wiped my eyes and headed for Irving Hall, because I knew one person that was there, no matter how early, no matter what day it was. And I was right: she was there, singing _Amazing Grace_ in her sweet voice and playing her own accompaniment of the piano.

"Lissa O'Rourke!" she called, stopping in the middle of the second verse when she saw me coming down the aisle.

"Hello, Hannah. I cannot believe you're here this early," I told her, embracing her tightly, because she was real, and not a terrifying specter.

She smiled. "I've been working on this weekend's performance. I'm still pitchy in some places of this damn song," she told me and then laughed.

Hannah James being 'pitchy' in any song was laughable, to say the least. Her voice was that of an angel. And when she wasn't singing ballads, her voice was strong and huge. And she even looked like a performer, with a bulk of blondish-copper hair that fell in soft ringlets and her corset always gave her a cinched and delicate look.

"Whatever you say. I think it sounded lovely," I told her earnestly, trying not to look over her shoulder again. Diana was hiding halfway behind the thick red curtain, grinning wickedly at me, waiting for me to look at her again.

"When are you going to dance again, Lissa?" Hannah asked, pulling me to sit beside her at the piano. "I miss opening for you and Diana."

I smiled at her sweetness. When Medda allowed us girls to perform, Hannah always roused the crowd with her angelic voice and then Diana and I wowed them with our thrilling ballet. Hannah never stayed in Ashfield Manor with the rest of the performing girls. She was always at home, taking care of the family she had left, or with David Jacobs, her beau. They made a rather smart couple, I had to admit.

"I don't think I'll dance again," I told Hannah and then sighed. "I will only ever dance with Diana, and now that she's gone, I don't think I'll ever dance again."

She smiled at me. "You cannot ignore the music, Lissa. It's in your soul. It's in my soul. And it calls to both of us. You can only ignore it for so long." She took my hand affectionately. "You'll be back. I have faith in you."

I gave her a weak smile, glad for her strength, and appreciative of her support. "I hope so. Once I am finished mourning, I am sure I will be able to dance again. But right now… I can't even think about dancing without her. It hurts too much."

She smiled and squeezed my hand. "I lost my father when I was small. Not to death, but because he chose to walk away from us. It took so long for me to forgive him for walking away, and to forgive myself because I didn't cause him to leave. But I am all right now. I have David, and my singing career. One day soon, Lissa, you will heal completely and all this pain now will be a memory left on a distant shore that you will never return to again," she promised. "But you must keep walking, 'else you will never leave the memories on that shore."

I nodded, soaking her words in like a sponge. I wondered briefly if I should go find Nightshade and tell her about seeing Diana's ghost.

"Besides," Hannah said, and then gave me a cheeky grin. "Having Spot Conlon as your boyfriend must make things ten times easier to deal with."

I laughed, a strong, true laugh at that. And when I looked back at the thick red curtain behind Hannah's shoulder, Diana was nowhere to be seen.

* * *

_**Some (if not most) will probably not understand this chapter. Honestly, it took me this long to figure it out myself. It's a good plot thread to use, because I was surprised by it myself. My Lissa!muse is rather complex. More complex than I thought, actually. But I will explain why she's deteriorating later, because there really is a reason. I promise you that I will.**_

**_Oh, and Hannah James belongs to Grnwkddrppprluv. Yeesh, what a mouthful. :) Hope to God I've gotten her character right. If not, just jab me in the eye with a spork. But just one eye, because I have to write the next chapter for you all. :)_**

**_I hope you've enjoyed this chapter, and even if you were confused, hope you enjoyed in your confusion. Thanks to all the creepers, readers and reviewers! You make my days brighter._**

_**CTB!**_

_**xx Wicked**_

**_P.S- My CC is still at the bottom of my profile. I'm still taking characters, so send 'em! :)_**


	10. the deal

**CHESS**

**Chapter Ten**

I stuck around to speak to Songbird for a little while, playing_ Amazing Grace_ on the piano for her. It was the only song I actually knew how to play, but it wasn't very good and eventually she shoved me off the bench and told me to sit in the front row and let her play.

I walked with her afterwards to the Jacobs' apartment, since they'd invited her to have Christmas with them. I was glad she had somewhere to go to. I hugged her goodbye and was on my own way, heading back to the Lodging House, wondering if I should go back to sleep. I had nothing better to do.

"You know she isn't really your friend, right?"

I kept walking at the sound of Diana's voice, ignoring her ghost as she appeared beside me, dressed for the weather in her lavish silk gown with a thick black cloak on and a fur muff on her hands.

"She is to my friend. She is a great friend," I said, wishing I didn't take bait so easily sometimes.

"You're so daft, Lissie," Diana laughed. "She used to talk about you all the time in the dressing room when we performed. God, you're so stupid."

That floored me a little bit. "I'm not _stupid_, Diana."

"You're stupid if you don't think she was talking about you to me."

"Why are you being so mean?"

"Because you're not listening to me."

I stopped walking and so did she. We turned and faced each other and I frowned at her. She didn't look really concerned at all. In fact, she looked a little angry.

"I am not crazy. You're not really here," I told her, but it felt like I was telling myself.

"Then why are you speaking to thin air, if you are not crazy? Face it, Lissa, you're as mad as a hatter, and you always have been."

I started walking again, but she didn't follow me, and I was left haunted as her cold, odd laughter filled the air behind me. I quickened my pace and walked right into the Lodging House as fast as I could, closing the door behind me. I pulled my coat and my boots off, trembling but not because I was cold.

"Angel!"

I shrieked as Pip jumped out from the side room. She stared oddly at me and I realized I had my back pressed against the wall in utter terror.

"Jesus, Angel, you're excitable this morning," she said and then gave me an odd look. "You look like ya saw a ghost. Everythin' okay?"

_I look like I saw a ghost,_ I thought. _Wonderful._

"No. Ah… no. I'm okay," I said, trying to straighten myself out. _Get a hold of yourself, Alyssa. You're not crazy._

She fixed me with another odd look before she shook it off and smiled. "You sure were up early this morning. Go back to bed. We don't sell papes today."

I nodded and pulled myself up the stairs. I fell into my cot heavily and fell right to sleep.

Sometime past lunch, I awoke again, my head heavy on my pillow. I pulled myself up and rubbed my eyes; the bunk room was completely empty. I figured everyone was probably down hanging around the boys. No papes to sell today, meant bored girls. And bored girls meant bothering the boys.

Well, I was alone until _he_ walked out of the washroom with a bowl in his hand with a lid on top. It smelled heavenly, whatever it was. He smiled when he saw me sitting up in bed and came to my side, sitting on the edge of the bed. He pressed a kiss to my temple and I smiled at his easy affection.

Diana was nowhere to be seen, and I didn't smell gardenias.

"Pip ran all the way to Brooklyn to tell me she was worried about ya. So I brought you some stew from the MacLeans," Silver said. "Night told me to force ya to eat it, even if ya said ya weren't hungry."

"I'm starving," I admitted.

He grinned and produced a silver spoon from his pocket and watched me wolf down the lamb stew as fast as I could possibly shovel it into my mouth. How charming and ladylike of me!

"Spot told me what happened the other night," Silver said. "Kinda glad I wasn't around. I woulda knocked his block off if I heard him screamin' at ya, even if it was for fake."

I smiled at him. "You're my best friend, ya know that?"

"Of course I am," he said proudly and then beamed at me. "So why was Pip all shaken up this afternoon? She said ya looked pale and ya jumped when ya came inside. Liss, ya never _jump_ at anything."

I sighed, my shoulders slumping. _Don't tell him. He will think you're mad, Lissa. He won't understand. And then he'll tell Sean. Don'ttelldon'ttelldon'ttell._

"I've been thinking more about Diana lately," I said quietly, my face burning at the lie that slipped so easily from my tongue. "I went to visit her grave this morning. I guess it's just affecting me."

He nodded. "You never had time to deal with your sadness, Angel. Spot's real good at makin' people forget what the hell they were thinkin' and all. He's a good distraction." I nodded my agreement and sighed. "But now that he ain't around to distract ya, maybe you're feelin' all the sadness now. It's a good thing, Angel. It's good to be sad. Ya can't be invincible all the time."

"But I can't be sad _now_, Silver. I have to worry about the war and Johnny and all that," I said feebly. "I don't have time to deal with my sadness."

"Well, Angel, if ya don't, it's just going to come out a different way," he said, smoothing down my hair affectionately.

_Yes, I know. I've been seeing her ghost and she's been frightening me because I keep trying to ignore her and the pain of not having her, plus the guilt because I killed her._ "I know, but I just can't deal right now. Maybe eventually, when this is over, but not now. I can't," I said.

"Night's always there to talk to ya, Angel," he offered quietly.

"I know, Silver. She's too good to me," I said softly and then sighed. "Just like you. And Spot. All of you are too good to me."

"It's our job. I'm the best friend, Spot is the delicious boyfriend, and Nightshade is the voice of reason."

I nodded. "That's a very accurate way of putting it, yeah."

He smiled at me. "So can I have a bite of that?"

I grinned and scooped some stew onto my spoon. Silver opened his mouth expectantly and I fed him the spoonful, laughing when the broth dripped down over his chin. He leaned over and gave my cheek a sloppy broth-kiss, which made me laugh again. I wanted to keep Silver here, because he kept Diana's ghost away.

No. I wanted Spot here. Diana never would have come if none of this was happening. I had to end it.

I followed Silver out of the Lodging House, on the pretense that I was going to join my friends inside for poker since I was sure that's what they were doing. No papes to sell, nothing else to do. So what do you do? Play poker.

Silver hugged me goodbye and left, not even turning around to see if I'd actually gone inside. I felt terrible for being a bad friend, but this thing needed to end. I walked with purpose up through Manhattan, towards enemy lines. I knew this was wrong; I knew I was about to be the stupidest person in the history of the world.

But I didn't care.

"So where are we going now, Lissie?" Diana asked.

"To the Bronx. To get this war thing over with," I told her. She looked better than before. Color had flushed her cheeks and she was coming in clearer. Like she was getting used to following me around.

"How exciting! A war!" She giggled in delight. What a typical, shallow Diana thing to say.

"Not really. It's terrifying," I told her and then sighed. "Why do you keep coming around, Diana? You're not helping anything."

I looked over at her and her eyes flashed white-blue. "You don't want me to be around anymore?"

"Not really."

She disappeared then and I breathed a sigh of relief, but I filled with a sudden fear. What if I'd made her angry? I stopped when a frighteningly large newsie stepped off a porch stoop and put a hand on my chest to stop me from walking. I glared at his hand and then looked up at him, eyes prompting him to explain why his hand was on me.

"Who the hell are you?" he sneered.

"I'm here to see your leader," I informed him and pushed his hand away. He grinned, showing me a mouth that was missing a few teeth, and then gripped my arm, walking me forcefully down the road, towards a large warehouse.

Inside, I assumed it was their Lodging House, or some semblance of one, because there was a bunch of newsies inside with bunks and cots scattered all over the damn place. I looked up when Johnny descended the stairs, Desiree following hot on his heels. The burly newsie holding my arm ripped the hat from my head, forcing my hair down around my shoulders. A sign of respect was to take your hat off in the presence of someone better than you, or a girl.

Johnny grinned at the sight of my hair.

"Miss O'Rourke. Lovely to see you again, darling," he said and then bowed low before me, pressing a kiss to my gloved hand. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your presence?"

"I need to talk to you," I informed him gruffly, pulling my hand from his grip. I didn't enjoy being sweet-talked by the enemy.

"Of course, darling. Whatever did you wish to discuss?" he asked, his terrible eyes peering into my soul.

Over his shoulder I saw Diana draped against his staircase, listening and watching, her elbows resting on the step behind her. She grinned wickedly when she saw me watching her. I turned my eyes back to Johnny, unwilling to allow my mind to distract me from my purpose here.

"I'd like to propose an exchange," I told him. "If you don't attack Spot and Brooklyn, I will give myself over to you willingly."

He grinned and then stroked his chin. Desiree tugged on his arm, glaring at me. "She lies, Johnny. She's manipulating you. Don't fall for her tricks."

"I give you my word," I told him. "I don't want any more games. This thing needs to end. You want me, and if you have me, there's no reason to attack Brooklyn."

He nodded. "Two days, Miss O'Rourke. I shall give you two days. Be outside Sonny's bar at five o'clock. Alone. If you are there, I will not attack your precious newsboy. But if you aren't, or you are not alone, I shall be most unmerciful with you."

"Sonny's is in the Five Points," I told him, mildly horrified. Did he expect me to wait there, alone, in the Five Points? He was a lunatic.

"Indeed, Miss O'Rourke. Or are you afraid?" he teased.

I squared my shoulders. "I will be there. Alone."

"Excellent choice, darling. The right choice, I'd say," He laughed and the gripped my jaw in his hand, smiling down at me. "Don't make me be violent with you, Miss O'Rourke. I would so hate to bruise such a sweet face."

I ground my teeth to keep my tongue from growing a mind of its own and saying something that would get me seriously injured. I tugged my jaw from his grip, glaring at him in disgust. He smiled pleasantly at me and then walked away, pulling Desiree roughly by the arm as he went. She glared backwards at me and I pretended not to notice her immaturity. Once they were out of earshot, however, I glared at the floor.

"Don't ever call me 'darling.'"

* * *

_**I just love writing Silver's character. He is just like Matt, which holds bittersweet feelings for me. I miss him.**_

**_Anyways, here's this chapter. I know, I know. What the hell is Angel doing, right? Well, she doesn't know either. :)_**

_**CTB!**_

_**xx Wicked**_

**_P.S- CC is offically CLOSED. It's time to get into the story, yo. xD_**


	11. the surprise

**CHESS**

**Chapter Eleven**

My stomach was growling.

I hadn't eaten a thing since that afternoon when Silver brought me lamb stew and I was starving. Sighing, I took Lily in my arms and walked the floor with her. Since Izzy was still deemed 'recovering' from her sickness, all of us girls took turns taking care of Lily until she felt better.

I must admit, I have no maternal bone in my body. I am horrid with children, let alone babies. The only reason the birds flock to be is because I tell thrilling stories. I'm terrified of having my own children because I do not want to infect them with the awful acid that runs through my veins.

And yet, there I was, walking the floor with a damn baby in my arms. She'd stopped crying long ago, but she was still awake, staring at me with large blue eyes. I was a horrible person. Babies were not all that cute to me. I actually found them rather horrid to look at. But Lily I could stand, because she looked like Izzy, but her nose belonged to Blink.

I had decided long ago that I would never, ever, EVER have children. No matter what happened between Sean and I, I would never be a good parent. I had swallowed that pill long ago. I was damaged, and there were spiders in my belly, spinning webs with silk thread around my insides, pulling them together so it made it impossible to feel any sort of love and affection to the small bundle, ANY small bundle, that would grace my arms.

It was sick to think about, really, but it was true. I would make a terrible mother.

But when Lily finally decided that she was tired, I set her down in her bassinet in the other room and tucked blankets around her little body. She cooed and shifted slightly and then stilled once more into sleep. I felt nothing.

I felt like a bitch for feeling that way.

Leaning against the wall, I let my head fall back against it and sighed. I inhaled a sudden rush of gardenias and shuddered slightly as the room dropped twenty degrees. She was here.

"You hate babies."

"I know that."

"Then why did you touch THAT baby?"

"It was my turn to put her down."

"What shit. You'd make an awful mother, Lissie."

'Tell me about it."

I was getting used to her ghost being mean to me. How sad was it that I was starting to get used to her? I was tired, though, so I wasn't in the mood to argue with her.

"Spot's waiting on the roof for you, y'know, Lissie." It sounded like we were discussing the weather, or talking about her new dress. Much too flippant.

I sighed. "I'm really not in the mood for games."

"Go look for yourself."

I sighed and pushed myself off the wall, peering out the window at the falling snow. I shuffled downstairs and pulled my coat and boots on, tugging my cap on. I crept outside and up the fire escape, poking my head over the top of the roof, seeing Spot sitting on the middle near the chimney.

"Told you," Diana whispered in my head.

I pushed her to the back of my mind and climbed to the top of the fire escape, having to pull myself onto the roof. I dusted my hands on my trousers and smiled when I realized that Spot was staring at me.

"Heya, Liss."

"Hey." I came over and sat down beside him, shuddering slightly at the cold air. "Why don't you come inside? It's freezing out here."

When we'd gone inside, I curled up beside him on the old beat up couch at the landing of the stairs, his arms sliding around me automatically. I settled my head on his shoulder and closed my eyes. Diana was staying away, but I could smell gardenias faintly. She was still around.

"Silver said you told him you went to see Diana's grave today," he said, his voice quiet.

"Mhm," I agreed.

"Do you miss her?"

_I used to, every single minute of every damn day, but now she's been haunting me and frightening me and being really, uncharacteristically mean to me and I don't miss her anymore. I wish she would just crawl back into her stupid hole and leavemealone__._

"Sometimes, when I think about her too much."

"I want you to know I got everything under control, Liss. With Johnny, I mean. I know what I'm doing. I hope you ain't worried about me."

"I'm always worried about you, Sean," I admitted. "I can't help it. And you're always worried about me. No matter what you or I say."

He chuckled softly and I felt it rumble against my cheek. He pressed an absent kiss to my forehead and we sat together like that for a long while. I didn't keep track of time with I was with him; it wasn't worth it. I hardly cared about much when he was around. That was probably not a good thing, but there it was.

I was falling asleep, I was sure. I leaned against his shoulder, pressed much too easily against him. His arms were around me like a blanket and I felt warm again. I missed lying beside a warm body at night, especially since it was winter now and I could use all the help I could get. The last thing I remember, before falling asleep, was hearing was Spot's voice:

"I love you, Alyssa."

My body pulled me from sleep the next morning. I rubbed my eyes, confused. I was back in my bunk, trousers folded neatly on the floor next to my bed just like I always did. Had I dreamt that Spot came last night?

"C'mon, Ang! Carryin' the banner!" Charlie called, breezing down the center of the room, stuffing her hair under her cap.

I pulled my trousers back on, still rather confused. I didn't like such a terrible feeling of… I couldn't even describe it. It was a terrible feeling. though. Fear knotted around anxiety. Perhaps I really was going insane.

Irrationally, I was leaning towards not going and talking to Nightshade about seeing Diana around. It was not smart of me at all, but I wasn't sure if my brain was just playing tricks on me. I didn't want to be insane, so I figured if I pretended that I wasn't insane, then maybe it would go away.

I told you: irrational.

I hauled myself out of bed, scrubbed my face with stingingly cold water, pulled my warm clothes on and moseyed after the girls as they trotted down the sidewalk. Skittery was walking along with Liz under his arm and they seemed to be talking intently about something. Liz's little boy William tottered along beside her, skipping and balancing himself on the edge of the sidewalk.

"Hey, Ang."

I smiled and stuffed my fists into my coat pockets, seeing Josie, or as the boys called her, Ramble, materialize beside me on the way towards the distribution yard. She grinned and mimicked my hands in her own pockets. Her long, white-blonde hair was braided into one long braid down her back and looked innocently under her smart grey cap.

"Hey, Ramble. What goes on?" I asked her, glad for her company.

She wasn't a fighter like Fire and Sam were, but she held her own rather well. And she was the flirt of the group in Brooklyn, and she had the Brooklynites wrapped around her pinky finger, and she worked it. She wasn't as bent out of shape as Fire and Sam were when Spot kicked the girls out of Brooklyn. In fact, she had that saucy look on her face, which meant she could've cared less where she was, as long as there were boys there.

She'd come from the Bronx, and I instantly sympathized with that. I gathered that Johnny had gotten a little too close for comfort, without her flirting, and she packed up and moved on. I didn't blame her one bit for it. She must have been tough, to pass right through Manhattan to settle in Brooklyn. At least she wouldn't have had to be tough in front of the Manhattaners; they were too nice.

"Not much," she answered easily. "Got a sellin' partner?"

I shrugged. "Probably not. It changes everyday. Wanna sell together?"

"Stop begging, Ang. It's not ladylike," Ramble teased and I nudged her with my arm, forcing her to nudge back, and we laughed together. "So, Race, what's the odds today?"

"Four to one on the fifth," Race spouted almost instantly, grinning, his left arm hooked through Pip's. She looked like she was in heaven. "Got a real good feeling about it, too. Why? You'se girls wanna lay a friendly wager?"

"Damn straight," Ramble agreed instantly. "Ten cents, Racey. You make bad bets."

"Make it twenty. I gotta agree with that, Race," I told him.

The scrappy Italian shrugged his shoulders and stuffed a cigar in his mouth. "Whatever you say, girls. One of these days I'se gonna get a lot of money at the tracks."

Piper gave Ramble and I a conspiratorial eye-roll and then smiled angelically at Race when he smiled at her. Ramble and I laughed and he was caught unaware.

We bought our papers quickly and left the yard, heading towards Ramble's usual spot a few blocks away. We called out a few false headlines, thanking those utter fools for swarming to us, then grabbed our papers and shuffled away, giggling, to find another spot before those rich folks figured out we'd just bluffed them into buying a paper whose front page headline was some shit about it being a colder winter than normal.

Honestly, who writes these headlines?

"I miss Brooklyn," Ramble said, sighing wistfully. I almost laughed at the look on her face.

"You miss _that boy_ in Brooklyn," I told her, and then grinned.

"Which boy?" Ramble asked slyly, slanting me a cheeky smirk and I nudged her with a laugh.

"The boy that works at the docks!" I exclaimed. "What's his name…"

"His name is Sailor and he is delicious," Ramble said matter-of-factly and then shrugged. "But he doesn't even know I exist."

I smiled. Sailor knew she existed; the damn boy used to watch her all the time when she flitted around the docks in the summer. I think he purposefully removed his shirt while he was working to show off his killer abs. Yum.

Ramble's slight shallowness reminded me of Diana; the Diana I knew, not the frightening poltergeist that was currently haunting my every step. Ramble, however, was living up to her name by talking my ear off about how seriously handsome Sailor was and how she couldn't wait until we girls were allowed back in Brooklyn because she wanted to flirt with him. Again.

I wished I was as shameless as Ramble was in her flirting. But I was much too embarrassed out by so many eyes on me. Ramble, however, seemed to thrive under the watchful eyes of her many, MANY male admirers.

She and I sold all morning together, taking a bit longer than usual because I couldn't help myself. We passed stuffy old man with a fat wallet stuck in his back pocket. I grinned slyly, my old ways as a pickpocket never really having gone away completely, and so I careened myself straight into him, blushing and stumbling a little, knocking his cane from his hand.

"Oh my goodness, I am so sorry!" I exclaimed, plucking the wallet expertly from his pocket and stuffing it in my vest as he bent to retrieve his fallen cane. "I guess I just got caught in the excitement. So sorry."

"No harm done, dear," the stuffy man said and patted my head as if I were a child. "Merry Christmas to you."

I doffed my cap and then took off, pulling Ramble from the sidelines without breaking stride. She was laughing loudly and we ran the entire way to Tibby's, just in case the old man found out that his wallet was gone. When we reached the restaurant, we spent a good few minutes outside just laughing about it.

We straightened up when the door open and a very sober-looking Cowboy leaned out and motioned for us to come inside. Ramble and I exchanged looks and then followed Jack inside. There was a small huddle around one of the tables and I realized that it was Bumlets, since Dutchy and Swifty were around him. Mirror sat beside Bumlets, of course, looking absolutely horrified.

"What's wrong?" I asked, making everyone look up at me. I frowned when Mirror sent me the most caustic look I'd ever seen anyone give me. She looked like she hated me.

She stood up and continued to glare. "You, that's what's wrong!" she shouted. "The stupid Bronx boys rushed Bumlets this morning while we were selling. He has a black eye all because of Conlon's stupid fight."

I blinked a few times and then realized that Bumlets left eye was black as pitch. A rush of guilt overwhelmed me.

"Bumlets, I'm so sorry," I said, pulling my hat off to run my fingers through my hair.

"It's only an eye, Ang. It'll heal," Bumlets tried to smile and then winced slightly and rubbed his jaw. It looked a little swollen. Damnit.

"Don't do that. Don't excuse this," Mirror snapped at him, and then tuned her accusing eyes to me. "We're friends, Angel, but as far as I'm concerned, _you_ did this to him. You'd be pissed too if someone could lay a hand on Conlon, but God forbid anybody beat up the damn newsie king! God forbid we take his pride down a few notches!"

I flinched, stung by her words. "It's not my fault Spot and the Bronx are fighting."

"They wouldn't be fighting if you hadn't shown up!"

There it was. She said it. I wondered if they were all thinking that. If Spot didn't realize who I was in the summer, this thing would've never started, Bumlets would be all right, and I would be off being a rich girl somewhere, probably about to get married.

I took a step back, nodding slightly, and then turned for the door. Ramble grabbed my arm and I looked over at her.

"Don't go, Angel. She's just angry. She doesn't mean it," she said.

"It's okay, Ramble. I know she's mad. But she did mean it," I replied and ducked out of the restaurant.

* * *

_**Heylo, kiddies! I wrote this chapter, in whole, on my new, awesome, fabulous, expensive ass laptop! Yayayayayay! Sorry this took forever. I was drooling over it for a bit and forgot to continue writing. But here it is. HOpefully it's not too awful.**_

**_Oh, and E.V. I hope you don't mind the little outburst from your character. I figured I'd play off the fact that she doesn't like Brooklyn, so that's why that little plot thread is there. Woot for plot threads! (And hopefully she's not too mad at me)_**

_**CTB!**_

_**xx Wicked**_

**_P.S- Ramble/Josie belongs to leaderbraken (and I hope to God she's cool with the nickname). And Liz belongs to Blinksgoil92. Please feel free to soak me if I've gotten your characters wrong. :)_**


	12. the mutiny

**CHESS**

**Chapter Twelve**

I didn't speak to anyone for the rest of the day, nor did I eat anything. I kept to myself, and after a while, nobody tried to talk to me. I felt bad for shutting everyone out, but I was kind of glad Mirror flew off the handle yesterday. It gave me an excuse to isolate myself so I could go, alone, to meet Johnny in the Five Points.

I went to bed early, because I wanted to get rested up for the stress of the next day. I wasn't sure if I would get any kind of sleep in Johnny's care, so I wouldn't take my chances by being disarmed as well as exhausted.

However, it didn't really go as planned. But when does it ever?

The next morning, I awoke to voices over me. My sleep-muddled brain didn't make out what they were saying, though. I rubbed my eyes and sighed, hoping it was just my mind playing more tricks on me.

"Angel?"

I pried my eyes open and blinked a few times. Three faces came into view: Pip, Spot, and Jack. I was confused.

"What's goin' on?" I mumbled.

"Are you sellin' us out to the Bronx?" Jack asked instantly.

Reality crashed into me like a runaway carriage. I sat up quickly but Jack and Spot pushed my shoulders down, pinning me to the bed. They both looked mad at me. _Great,_ my brain muttered. _More people to be mad at Lissie The Terrible._

"Why the hell would I sell you out? What would I gain from that?" I asked them. Really, some boys were just so dense!

"Then why did Pip see you coming out of Johnny's warehouse the other day?" Spot asked.

"Pip ratted me out?" I asked slowly, blinking a few times. I couldn't believe it. My brain was working overdrive to try and catch up to this conversation. I was missing half of it.

"I'm sorry," Piper supplied from behind Jack, looking guilty.

"I wasn't selling you out," I said, struggling slightly, growing irritated from being held down.

"Then why were you talking to Johnny?" Jack demanded.

"I…" I sighed and closed my eyes. "I told him I'd meet him at Sonny's, and I told him I'd go willingly with him if he stopped this fighting thing."

_"YOU WHAT?"_

I flinched when the both of them shouted at me at the same time, near my ears. This felt like a jamais vu: something that's never happened yet, but it felt like it. That's what this fight was. I felt like we'd been saying the same things, over and over, only with different words. It was becoming scripted:

Spot: Do you realize what you just did?

Jack: You're smarter than this, Angel!

Spot: Where you thinking at all?

Lissa, quietly: Yes, I was thinking. I am being smart. And I do realize what I did. I'm stopping the fighting.

Spot, accusing: No, you aren't being smart at all!

Jack, scolding: You shouldn't have gone into thee Bronx alone.

Lissa, defiant: Would you have let me if I told you that's what I was doing?

Both: NO!

Lissa: Exactly why I didn't tell you. And I am going. This needs to end.

Spot: I don't think so. You're on lockdown, starting now.

Lissa, angry: I'm not a child!

Spot: Then stop acting like one!

I blinked, and then glared at him. Spot nodded slightly and Jack and Pip left the room, looking reluctant and sorrowful, but I didn't care. As far as I was concerned, they were all no longer my friends.

"I hate you," I said bitterly.

"You don't know who to hate," he replied, just as bitter.

He stood up straighter and walked to the door, closing it behind him. I got out of bed and padded to the door, pounding on it once with my fist when I heard the click of the lock. _He was locking me in!_

"You'll be sorry for this, Spot Conlon!" I shouted.

"Not likely!" he shouted back.

I heard the downstairs door shut and I pressed my forehead against the wood of the door, still pretty angry, but now I just felt tired.

"I'll be back to get ya in three hours, Lissa. I'll bring ya some lunch," he said quietly through the door. "I'm sorry."

I said nothing, and he left eventually. I listened as his footsteps slowly faded out of my range of hearing. I straightened up and undressed. I was in Pirate's room, I realized. Since Pirate was the girls' leader, she got her own room, just like all the other leaders.

I padded to her washroom and filled up the little tub with cold water, sort of sorry that we didn't have hot water. But I needed a good scrubbing. My hair smelled like stagnant pond water and my clothes smelled like cigarette smoke. Yuck.

I sat in the cold water and scrubbed my body until it was pink from the pressure of my scrubbing. We had this foul smelling, generic soap that we got for cheap and I used about half of it scrubbing down my body and then the other half went into my hair. I scrubbed my scalp and the long spindly strands of my hair until I was sufficiently satisfied with my work.

By the time I was finished scrubbing myself, the tub had a slight brown hue to it. How delightfully endearing. I hauled my ass out of the ice water, patted myself off with an old towel, and redressed in some old clothes I had so I could wash my regulars.

I drained the old water and pumped some new water into my tub, tossing my clothes inside. I grabbed another bar of soap and began furiously scrubbing my clothing, soap bubbles rising to the surface of the water from my intense scrubbing. My arm was sore by the time I had finished.

I wrung the clothing out and hung them up on the line inside to dry. I yawned slightly and stood up, heading back into Pirate's room to get some sleep before Spot decided to show up again. I blinked and looked around.

_It was snowing inside the Lodging House._

Diana was sitting on the bed, cards spread out before her. She looked up and smiled at me. "Finally, Lissie! Come help me figure out how to play Texas Hold 'Em. I want to impress Race."

I sat down on the bed beside her, watching her for a few moments. "I don't want to play, Diana."

She laughed, her eyes turning white-blue again as she looked over at me. It was frightening. "Why not? You love Texas Hold 'Em. So teach me!"

I looked straight into her eyes. "No."

She threw the cards like a petulant child and then pouted. "You never let me do anything fun, Lissie!" I watched the cards hit a snowdrift near the bed and blinked, hoping to clear the muck inside my brain.

"Please go away now, Diana."

"Aren't you proud of me, Lissie?" Diana asked, as if she hadn't heard me. "It took me forever to figure out how to follow you around. And now you want me to 'go away'?"

Her eyes suddenly turned angry, making the white-blue of her eyes even more terrifying. It was like a vice had been placed over my head and every word she said tightened it a little more. She was scaring me.

Her hand shot out and her thin fingers wrapped themselves around my throat. I choked and, shuddering, tried to push her away, but she wouldn't move.

"You did this to me, Lissa!" she shouted, her voice sounding amplified and distorted all at the same time. "You didn't stop me from hurting myself, you left me to go make nice with your stupid newsboy and now I am dead!"

"Stop," I croaked.

She did.

I slumped backwards, spiraling backwards off the bed, clutching my sore throat but it didn't feel like I had been choked. It felt like I'd been screaming. I looked up at her, still sitting on the bed, fire in her eyes.

"Why didn't you ask for help, Diana?" I whispered. "Somebody would have helped you."

"I tried," she said, the fire licking the whites of her eyes. "I tried. The night you found the scratches on my leg. I wanted you to help me. But you didn't. You are a selfish bitch, Alyssa O'Rourke."

I curled up in a snowdrift and sobbed.

:-:-:-:-:-:-:

Years later, I was awoken by the door opening. My head felt heavy and my eyes felt like someone had glued them shut while I was sleeping. The surface I was sleeping on was hard, and I realized I had curled up in the corner of the room. I sat up and rubbed my eyes, trying to break the coating that was over them.

"Hey, Liss," he said, coming to sit beside me. He looked nervous, and it confused me for a moment, until I remembered I had been sore with him that morning.

"I'm sorry for yelling," I said quietly, leaning against the wall. I was exhausted.

"It's all right," he said softly. "I brought you a sandwich."

"I'm not hungry."

"You have to eat, Liss."

I shrugged slightly and closed my eyes.

_When I opened them again, I was confused. I could smell bread baking in the kitchen below, the warmth of it invading my nose, and I could hear the faint laughter of girls somewhere nearby. I rubbed my eyes and padded down the hallway, before stopping in a half-open doorway. Inside, Diana sat on the edge of a porcelain bathtub. But she wasn't a ghost; she was real, her hazelnut eyes gleaming as she stared at herself in the mirror. I walked into the bathroom and sat down beside her._

_"Diana?" I whispered. She stood up and closed the door; she hadn't heard me._

_She slid the chemise off her body and I was amazed by the beauty of her. She really was simply gorgeous. The bowls of her hips curved just so and her waist was pulled in nice and tidy from years of corseting. But the way she looked at herself in the mirror was not beautiful. She looked like she wanted to stab her reflection repeatedly with something sharp and large._

_I hadn't noticed her knitting materials near the sink until she pulled a needle from within the basket, smiling at it. She touched her fingertip to the sharp edge lightly and sighed. My eyes widened as she brought the sharp edge to the back of her knee. She stuck it into her skin and dragged it across the porcelain expanse of her skin. Blood bubbled up eagerly at the wound, trickling down the back of her leg._

_"Diana, stop," I demanded, but she didn't. Instead, she pulled the needle out and inserted it in a different spot, dragging it again, making another jagged wound, a crude addition sign on her leg. She smiled quietly at her work, the blood pouring down her leg from the cut._

_"Come on, Di! I want to go look at dresses now!" I heard myself call from outside the powder room door._

_"Coming, Lissie darling!" she called back, as if nothing was wrong at all. She cut three small lines into her hip, all jagged little monsters, and then began cleaning herself up._

_Once fully bandaged, she pulled her chemise, pulled tight the strings of her corset, and with her dress back in place, Diana walked out of the bathroom with her head held high._

_No one suspected a thing._

I jerked awake in horror, but my body felt exhausted and it screamed when I jerked so suddenly. I panted softly, frightened by my own dream, and forced my hands to rub my eyes again. When I finally got the courage to peek up, I saw Nightshade and Spot staring down at me.

"Lass, can ye hear me?" she whispered in my ear.

I nodded and sat up, rubbing my eyes again. "What's goin' on now?"

Nightshade pressed her hand to my forehead and it felt cool against my skin. "Ye fell asleep yesterday afternoon, and ye didnae wake up. Spot hear was worried aboot ye, so he came tae find me. An' here A am."

"Yesterday?" I asked, frowning. "It's a different day?"

"Aye, lass." Nightshade's brow furrowed slightly and I sat back slowly, afraid she could see what was wrong with me. Her eyes were calculating, prying down into my brain. Could she see the muck that was polluting my thoughts?

"What's the matter with her?" Spot asked.

I looked up at him and smiled slightly. Those blue eyes were making me peaceful, and I'd missed seeing his face.

"She's runnin' a fever, an' it's a high one. She's delusional," Nightshade said quietly. The word 'delusional' sounded funny, and I resisted the urge to giggle over it.

"She's sick?" Spot asked incredulously.

"Yes," I whispered. I was sick. God, there was a damn purple elephant in the dam corner of the room and nobody saw it but me, because it was my purple elephant. I couldn't smell gardenia, though, so I hoped I would be left alone for a while.

I watched Nightshade prepare a syringe with something inside it. She gripped my arm gently with her cool hand and pressed her thumb around the inside of my elbow, searching for a vein. Once she found one, she pressed the needle into my arm and pushed down on the little plunger. Instantly, I felt cold and warm at the same time and a lovely tingling began in my toes.

"What'd you do?" I heard Spot ask, as my vision became fuzzy around the edges.

"Gave her a bit of an opiate to help her sleep. She'll be a wee bit loopy, but it should help her fever," Nightshade said quietly.

"Will she be okay?"

"I hope so."

* * *

_**This chapter is confusing, I know, but I am currently working on this thing called PLOT PROGRESSION, and it needed to be here. It may seem useless, but it isn't. It will be explained.**_

**_And most of you will probably not understand the purple elephant thing that Lissa was rambling about. I will take space to explain: See, in psychology, we use the purple elephant image to explain dysfunctional families. See, in a dysfunctional situation, we say there is a large purple elephant in the livingroom. Everyone knows it's there, everyone can see it, but nobody says anything about it, or asks about it. That's why it's dysfuctional; because you know there's something wrong, but you can't or won't say anything about it._**

**_In short, Lissa knows there's something wrong with her, but she refuses to face it, which is why her mental state is getting progressively worse. She's deteriorating because she can't face the pain. You can't ignore things forever; they will eventually come back. And when they do, they bring friends, and make things worse._**

**_On a lighter note, I must say, I forgot all about the Summer FF Awards. I happened upon them again, and realized I was nominated. Wow, I suck. I have the link in my profile, so visit it and vote for me, and your other faves as well. I've all ready cast my vote for Saya's fic. Fingers crossed she wins it!_**

_**CTB!**_

_**xx Wicked**_


	13. the unknown

**CHESS**

**Chapter Thirteen**

After three days of sleeping and bathing in cool water, I felt much, much better. Not terribly, since my brain felt heavy from so many bad things inside weighing it down, but I didn't feel as messed up as I had when I thought it was snowing inside the Lodging House. Don't get me wrong, I was obviously a complete and utter basket case, but it was easier to push the muck towards the back of my brain, so I wouldn't think about it as often. Spot wasn't so sure, of course, so he was keeping a watchful eye on me anytime we went somewhere, but I wasn't really worried. I felt bad for him honestly, since I wasn't up to the walk back to Brooklyn yet, and he refused to leave me anywhere by myself.

I was a little miffed at Nightshade for giving me an opiate when I was running a fever, because now every time I got up too fast, my head would swim and I would get dizzy. She said it was an aftereffect from the opiate, and would go away shortly. I hated it, because everybody jumped when I wobbled on my feet. I hate feeling weak.

Mirror was still not talking to me, and I heard that she thought I was making up the thing with the fever. Sammy probably asked me twenty times a day if she could soak Mirror for purposefully snubbing me, but I told her not to. Mirror would come around eventually (I hoped). Besides, Bumlets' eye looked much better. Not as dark, but not yellowing yet. He'd gotten some aloe, I was sure, from Nightshade and it was working miracles for the black eye, like it always did.

Izzy was finally feeling better, and she was back to her silver-tongued ways and I found that I'd missed her while she was sick. But Nightshade proclaimed she'd made a full recovery, but to watch her since she'd been lying in bed for nearly two weeks; she might be a little woozy for a day or two, until she got used to walking around again. No one was surprised that when her ankles wobbled slightly in Tibby's from getting up too fast and Blink rushed to her side to help her, she screamed at him for five minutes straight about how she wasn't a baby and she could handle herself.

Every girl in the restaurant burst out laughing and congratulated Izzy on her return from the land of the sick.

I turned my attention back to Nightshade, who was sitting across the table from me. I joined her and her family for lunch that day, since Spot decided he was ruler of my damn life and started making choices for me without me getting a say. I figured I deserved it, however; I'd been acting really weird lately.

Then again, I haven't felt like myself for a while now.

"So why do ye think Spot wants ye tae talk tae me?" Nightshade asked. It was a coded question like 'Are you okay?' or 'How does that make you feel?' I wasn't falling for that.

"Spot's just being dramatic," I told her, taking a swig of coffee in the mug before me. "It's in his nature to be abnormally obsessive over things sometimes. He'll get over it. There's nothing wrong with me."

"A never said there was, Lissa," she said patiently.

I realized that I had just said something wrong, and was sorry I even helped continue this conversation. I was exposing parts of myself that shouldn't have been exposed. I felt weird, like she could see down into my soul. Like she knew what was wrong with me.

"Besides," Night continued. "Ye should ken better than tae shove down yer feelins like ye are. Spot and A both would rather ye be healthy, more than what's goin' on with Johnny an' the Bronx."

I frowned at her. "I am not shoving down my feelings, Lara. There's nothing to shove. I'm fine."

"Ye went tae see Diana's grave a few days ago," Nightshade said, derailing me completely. "Are ye feelin' sad aboot her at all? She was yer best friend."

Unknown, unbridled rage flared up inside my belly and I glared at her. Yes, that's right; I _glared_ at my best friend.

"How dare you bring Diana into this mess, Night! She has nothing to do with this at all!" I exclaimed, not sure where my anger was coming from. It was a simple question, but my brain wasn't processing that at all. Her words felt like an accusation.

Her eyes chilled into icy amethyst. "Donae push me away, Alyssa O'Rourke. Yer diggin' yerself deeper intae the ground, an' eventually A will nae be able tae reach ye. Address yer pain before ye start settin' fire tae bridges ye didnae want tae burn."

I continued to glare at Nightshade as she got up and left Tibby's without saying another word to me. _Stupid Scot with her stupid riddles. Why can't she make some damn sense? How dare she make assumptions about me!_

I sighed down into my coffee cup but looked up when I heard Diana's laughter. She quickly took up the space left by Nightshade and smiled at me. Her eyes were deep cinnamon brown. Happy to see her the way I remembered her, I shoved the coffee cup her way; I wasn't in the mood to eat (or drink) anymore.

"Thanks, Lissie!" Diana beamed and took a large gulp. "Yum! I forgot how good coffee is!"

"Why are you so jolly today?" I asked, almost sorry I had. I didn't care _why_ she was jolly; I just cared that she _was_ jolly.

"Because it's funny that you made Spot angry a few days ago. He's funny when he's angry, isn't he?" Diana giggled over the coffee mug.

Typical Diana answer.

"It's not actually funny at all. It's awful. I hate making him angry," I said quietly. "I hate making anyone angry."

"Oh, please," Diana scoffed. "You made Mirror angry a few days ago and all you said was 'sorry.' Everywhere you go, you make people angry. Face it, Lissie."

"NO!" I shouted. "Stop acting like this! Stop acting like you know things about me and quit telling me lies! I hate you, Diana! _I hate you!_"

"No you don't, Lissie," Diana said sweetly. "If you hate me, then you hate yourself. Because I am you."

She transformed right before my eyes. Her hair lightened and her eyes shifted to bright Granny Smith apple green. The tip of her nose turned up just slightly and her lips thinned out. She looked just like me. I was looking in a mirror. She smiled at me and I quaked in fear.

"See, Lissie? Now we shall always be a part of each other," she whispered, in my voice.

I stood up but I realized I wasn't in Tibby's any longer. I was in an alley, but it was unfamiliar. I rubbed my aching head and peered out into the street before I pulled my coat a little tighter. I looked around, hoping my brain would catch up, but I was in unfamiliar territory. Where the hell had I gone? And why didn't Spot come after me?

I sighed and fumbled around my pockets for a cigarette. I found an old one and, after re-rolling it and licking the paper to close it better, I lit it up and began smoking. I leaned against the brick behind me and let my head rest on it, smoking, blowing smoke up into the air.

Suddenly, I looked up to see a carriage being pulled round, stopping in front of the alley I was currently skulking in. Confused, I ventured forth from the shadows to get a better look. The door was opened then and Shames, a butler I knew from my days at Ashfield Manor, stepped out and smiled at me.

"Good afternoon, Miss O'Rourke," he greeted me as usual.

I blinked. "Good afternoon."

"I am sorry about the suddenness of my appearance, Miss O'Rourke, but I have been called to escort you back to Ashfield Manor. It seems there is a matter of great importance that Mrs. Pemberton would like to discuss with you. I believe it is about the late Miss Pemberton," Shames informed me, and I nodded, tossing my cigarette away.

Shames held his hand out for me to help me up and into the carriage. With the practiced grace from my former life, I placed my dirty hand into his and put a foot into the carriage.

"Thank you, Sham—"

I stopped.

Inside the carriage were Johnny, Desiree, and another boy I did not recognize, or cared to recognize. I frowned, fear worming its way around my heart. I blinked a few times, hoping this had all been a terrible dream.

"Inside, if you please, Miss O'Rourke," Shames said from behind me, putting pressure on my lower back as if wishing he could toss me into the carriage without a second thought.

"That'll be enough, Shames," Johnny said coolly and then smiled at me. "How delightful to see you again, Miss O'Rourke."

"I'm not going anywhere with you!" I shouted, fighting against Shames, who's arm curled around my middle to stop me from getting free.

"I beg to differ, darling," Johnny said sweetly and then turned to glare at Desiree who was sitting beside him. "Move, whore!" he grabbed her arm and flung her to the other side of the carriage, tugging my arm down roughly so I sat down beside him.

Desiree glared at me, rubbing the back of her head where she'd hit it after Johnny had tossed her aside. Her gaze wasn't as hostile, however; she looked as if her spirit had been broken, but that was the least of my concern now.

The carriage began to move, Shames leading the proud team of horses that carried us through the still-unfamiliar streets. I had yet to figure out where the hell I was.

"Where are you taking me?" I demanded.

"Somewhere we can talk, alone," Johnny said, and tossed me what could be misconstrued as charming but I wanted to pound him in the face. "You are quite the slippery little girl, Miss O'Rourke."

"I am _not_ a little girl," I said gravely.

"I know," he said, but he said it in such a way that I was unnerved, and thoroughly creeped out. Chills crawled down the back of my legs.

"What about Spot? He is not a fool; he will know something is wrong when I do not return tonight," I informed him, looking away from his terrible eyes.

"I am betting on that, Miss O'Rourke. I am also betting on the fact that he will take my bait and coming running straight to us once he finds out," Johnny said pleasantly, and then laughed. "And then we shall ambush the little bastard."

"He's smarter than that. He won't come," I said harshly, glaring at him. I hope, I added silently.

Johnny laughed again. "Don't be so sure, darling. Don't be so sure."

He then attacked me with a handkerchief. I choked, inhaling the sick, sweet smell of ether-like liquid. The sweet taste invaded my mouth from my nose and I tried fighting but my body felt limp and heavy. My eyelids fluttered, but I fought it as hard as I could. I closed my eyes and sent out a mental S.O.S.

_Help._

* * *

_**Well, here it is. I dunno how I feel about this chapter; it's sort of sad. I mean, you KNOW it's bad when Lissa is mean to Nightshade. Like, it's BAD. xD.**_

_**I wanted to get this chapter done yesterdaybut, obviously, I didn't. I was afraid I wouldn't have time because I started college today! Sophomore year! Yayayaya! (Wow, I am WAYYY too old for this site)**_

**_Anyways, I hope you enjoy. And somebody hurry up and tell Spot so he can go save Angel! Hurry!_**

_**CTB!**_

_**xx Wicked**_

**_P.S- Ever since E.V. mentioned in a review a while back about how she adored my supporting cast, I've been thinking of doing a spin-off of this story. Since after this story, I'm going to let Angel and Spot be together because they've had enough drama (ha!). I was thinking of focusing on Silver and Nightshade. Something like a story that follows them as they learn how to take over the roles that Spot and Angel will leave behind, you know, since nobody can be a newsie forever. I dunno. It's been floating in my head. Leave me a review. Would you read a spin off to this story if I did it? Sound interesting at all? Of course, Angel and Spot would be around (I just can't leave them alone, can I?) but the story would focus on Silver and Night. I dunno. You tell me. :)_**


	14. the wary alliance

**CHESS**

**Chapter Fourteen**

Spot Conlon was not a happy camper. Lissa had left Tibby's in a rush, muttering something about needing to go out for a cigarette because Nightshade had pissed her off. Spot was fine with that; he was more than fine with that, honestly. She was stressed, and something was obviously bothering her. So he let her go, warning her that the birds weren't far away, but she was all ready halfway out the damn door.

"Sneak!" he barked and then little bird sprung into action, hightailing it after Lissa as if his life depended on it. Wryly, Spot decided that Sneak's life _did_ depend on it.

"Whaddya think they were fightin' about?" Jack asked Spot, frowning slightly.

"I dunno, Jack, but I ain't never seen Nightshade get angry. Never. And I've known her for a long time. She just… don't get angry," Spot told his friend, and then sighed. "Something's up with Lissa, and I will figure it out. You can bet on that."

"So what goes on with Johnny? Ain't heard nothin' from the Bronx, 'cept when a few of them boys rushed Bumlets, but they ain't been back to his spot. Woulda heard Mirror complainin' about it while she worked," Jack said.

"I dunno," Spot admitted. "They have been quiet, but it worries me. The kid I thought was the traitor hauled ass outta Brooklyn after I kicked Angel and the girls out, like I figured he would. But I think I've been found out. I was hopin' I'd be able to keep Angel in hiding for a bit, while I figured out what I was gonna do next."

"Well, it was a good idea at the time," Jack told his friend. "But it's time to step up the game, y'know? It's only gonna get harder, and we gotta anticipate what they're doin', ya know?"

Spot nodded silently, rolling this information around on his tongue. Jack was right, of course. It only made sense. Fighting was all about power plays; who could outdo whom? And the winner was determined simply by who had more showmanship, and who had more cleverness up their sleeve to outwit and effectively disarm his opponent. And Spot needed a serious power play before Johnny decided to make his own rules and do something they all weren't expecting. And if there was one thing that Spot hated, it was being shown up.

"Spot! Spot!" Sneak shouted, barreling into Tibby's, cheeks pink from bolting to the restaurant.

Spot stood up, cane in hand, ready for anything. And then he frowned, noticing there was no pretty girl with green eyes following after him.

"Where's Angel?"

"She… Johnny… carriage… tricked… gone," he gasped, fighting with his lungs which wanted oxygen but his brain and his mouth demanded he tell what he knew.

Snipeshooter readily supplied the little bird with glass of water, which was downed gratefully by the smaller boy. Spot tapped his fingers against his thigh, waiting, impatient. Patience was not a virtue of his.

"Now then, say that again, slower," Spot demanded.

"So I was followin' her like ya said, right? And she slumps in this alley near Midtown, okay, and I started gettin' worried 'cause I thought she was gonna pass out. Then all of a sudden, she fires up a cigarette and she looks better and all. Then this carriage comes round and some hoity-toity fella comes out and says something to her. He opens the door, okay, and she gets ready to get in, but she stops," Sneak supplied, hardly stopping to take a breath. He took another two more big gulps of water.

"There's more," Spot groused.

Sneak nodded. "I saw Johnny inside and some guy and some girl. The hoity-toity fella shoves Angel inside and I barely had time to react. Everything happened so fast! I wanted to save Angel, 'cause I knew she was in trouble, but I couldn't run fast enough. Them horses were so fast! 'Sides, I coulda never taken on those Bronx guys _plus_ the hoity-toity guy and—"

"Sneak," he warned, and the birdy got the message.

"So anyways, I was running to catch up, because I wanted to see where they was takin' he, since I knew I couldn't take 'em all on myself, y'know. Until Johnny put this handkerchief over Angel's face and she, sorta, fell over. I came straight here after that, though, honest."

The whole restaurant was silent, waiting with baited breath as Spot Conlon stood motionless, his ears hearing, his brain processing, his knuckles growing progressively white. Then all of a sudden, with a cry bordering on animalistic, he turned around and slammed his cane, hard, into the wooden table he and Jack had just been sitting at.

The table gave way instantly, and cracked.

**:Whip pan to first person!:**

I came to awareness in degrees.

First, I was aware of the putrid, awful taste in my mouth. It settled in my throat like a clump of lint. My mouth felt like it was stuffed full of cotton filled with lead. Then, my vision swam before me. It was as if I was slightly blinded. Everything around me looked like simple bursts of color; there was no sharpness to anything.

It is an odd sensation to have something you were used to taken away from you so fiercely and quickly. Such as your sight. Or any normal functions, really. I groaned and rolled over, realizing I was on a cold floor that smelled like rotting rust. Not a good smell.

"Angel?" a voice said over me. "Angel, come on, get up. Ya have to get up."

"Spot?" I murmured, hopeful, praying, begging that it was him.

"No, Angel, it's Dodger."

I shot up like a bullet, groaning as my head started swimming from reacting too fast. A hand gripped my upper arm as I reached to rub my eyes. My vision swam before me before settling, sharpening with each passing second, until I could, finally, see once again. I looked over at Dodger, who was still holding my arm and looking quite nervous.

"Getoffmeh," I said, but it sounded muffled and my tongue was thick. He smiled and handed me a glass of water; I hadn't seen it sitting on the floor beside him.

I downed the whole thing and then shoved the glass back at him. "Get off me," I repeated, with much more clarity of voice.

"Ain't no way to talk to an old friend, Ang," Dodger said, laughing as he let my arm go.

I sighed. "Go away, Dodger. Please. I have to figure out a way out of here," I informed him, and then looked around. "Wherever… here is."

"That's why we're here. We're gonna help you bust out," Dodger said.

I snorted and then started laughing, which wasn't smart because my vision swam again, so I shut up. "Oh, please. For all I know, you're helping him. Are you here to collect your part of me?" I snapped.

"No, I'm not," he snapped back. "And I was helping him, until I found out the huge ass stink Conlon's making over in Brooklyn about ya being gone. I don't really want to be on the guy's bad side."

"Well, helping me escape ain't gonna get you on his good side. He'll just soak ya less," I promised him, giving him an annoyed look. "And who is 'we'? You said 'we'."

"I'm helping, too."

"Oh, hell no," I said, glaring as Desiree materialized in the doorway. "If anything, I'd like to soak you myself."

"Calm the fuck down, Angel. She ain't here to steal Conlon from you so just settle down all ready," Dodger snapped at me.

I fumed in silence.

"I would actually like to help, if you'll let me. I'm tired of Johnny," she said gently. "And I'm sorry for being such a bitch to you since we met. I've been awful, haven't I?"

I snorted, but my brain was prodding me. I wished I wasn't the way I was. She's apologized, and it was in my nature to be too forgiving to those who had apologized to me. Damn my weaknesses to hell!

"Yeah, all right," I groused. "But I ain't happy about it. At all."

Dodger smirked at the both of us and then left the room. I looked at Desiree, who gave me a tight-lipped smile and pulled me to my feet. I ran my fingers through my hair and sighed, looking around.

The room was large, with a bed and a large mahogany armoire beside it. I wrinkled my nose in confusion. "What's that for?"

"Johnny likes his girls dressed up," Desiree informed me, as if this were no big deal.

I snorted. "Like hell. I'm not putting a corset on again. They're so… restricting, and obnoxious."

"Angel, you have to play along," Desiree said. "It's the only way I can guarantee you a way out of here."

"I don't trust you," I told her bluntly, staring up into her eyes.

Something I couldn't understand flashed in her gray eyes. "I've nothing left to lose, Angel."

I sighed again and then nodded. "All right. Fine."

I undressed easily, uncaringly, and pulled on the linen chemise that was passed to me. I allowed Desiree to help me into my corset but when she moved to lace me up, I stepped back away from her.

"Have I done something wrong?" she asked, wide eyed.

"I can very easily lace myself up, thanks," I said quietly, straightening up.

I pulled the laces tight and sighed, feeling the pressure on my rib cage. Self-lacing was hideously painful, but I didn't want Desiree to lace me up. That was Diana's job, and I would not have my best friend replaced.

With a familiar stiffness in my bones, I limped to the boudoir and pulled it open. I hissed in surprise and terror as Diana looked up at me, stuffed in the middle with all the dresses, sitting on the floor of it, hugging her knees and grinning up at me like a Cheshire.

"Hello, Lissie. Have you missed me terribly?" she purred.

"What's wrong?" Desiree asked from behind me. I felt her body near my own, probably wondering what the hell was wrong with me for hissing at an empty armoire.

_She's not real, Alyssa. She's part of you. She _is_ you. Don't let her fool you_, I told myself firmly. I selected a dress and slammed the door in Diana's face.

I pulled the dress on, allowing Desiree to feed the little buttons into the impossibly tiny loops of linen down my back to secure the dress in place.

I hated this.

I hated that I had to dress up for the enemy. I hated that I was too forgiving. I hated that I could still see Diana. I hated that, after everything I went through with Nightshade, I was still messed up in the head. I hated that there was something wrong with me. I hated that I was in love with Sean Conlon, king of the Brooklyn newsies. I hated my father for messing me up so severely. I hated my mother for turning away at my pain. I hated the forth commandment with said I was to honor my father and my mother. I hated that I was Catholic so I had no choice but to obey. I hated that I hated so many things.

And I hated that I couldn't do a damn thing about any of it.

* * *

_**The Spot part in the beginning is for E.V. who demanded more Spot. See, kids, if you ask things of me, I will try and fit them into the story. I loves you people, so I ain't just... gonna ignore you. :)**_

**_That being said, I would like to thank all of you lovely people who voted for me on Peg's FF Contest. I tied for 2nd place as storyteller of the summer with Peg and stress. Seriously, it's an honor just to be in the same sentence as both of those girls; they are SO talented! Anyways, I just wanted to say thanks for voting. It's so nice to know you people really like me. :)_**

_**CTB!**_

_**xx Wicked**_


	15. the enemy

**CHESS**

**Chapter Fifteen**

I sat down quietly at the table, glaring at Johnny who had forced Desiree out with us, along with a boy I now knew was Vinnie. He was the unknown boy in the carriage when I was kidnapped. I was vaguely aware of how stupid it was for Johnny to be taking me out in public since was I was a prisoner of war, but I figured we were still in the Bronx, and all of my allies were in Manhattan. I was utterly alone in this.

And my brain was all ready devising a plan on how to get out of the Bronx.

Honestly, when it came to things like this, I wasn't all that clever. The only reason my brain went straight to escaping, is because I always had to watch my back as a pickpocket. Being clever was a learned behavior for me. I was not naturally clever, like Pip or Pirate, nor was I naturally quick-tongued, like Fire and Sammy.

The only thing I was good at, it seemed, was being Spot's girl, and I hadn't even done that right, apparently.

I watched the plate of food being presented in front of me. I glared at it quietly, food from the enemy, how lovely, and then handed Johnny my disgusted look.

"I'm not hungry," I announced.

A semblance of a smile tilted the corner of his mouth. "Perhaps you think this sport, Miss O'Rourke, but I assure you, this is no game I am playing with you. Eat. _Now_."

I smiled at him. "Very well."

I flagged down our waitress and ordered two more roast beef sandwiches, a slice of pecan pie, and two more mugs of root beer. She must've thought me mad, but she went to put the order in anyways. I turned my innocent eyes to Johnny, who looked like he would love to have throttled me unmercifully until my face turned a lovely shade of purple.

"You told me to eat, so I shall eat," I said saucily, digging into the sandwich in front of me.

Desiree snickered behind her hand, and though I didn't consider her to be anything remotely close to being anything near my friend, I appreciated the fact that she was on my side for once. _Someone_ was on my side.

"You know, girl, I can kill you whenever I want. I am not afraid to," Johnny informed me, as if I was new to this. I'd read novels; I knew how kidnapping and such things worked.

"But you won't," I informed him back. "You need me as leverage with Spot, and Brooklyn as a whole. You won't kill me. You'll have nothing to hold over him until he gives in to whatever the hell you're trying to get. You'd be a fool if you killed me now."

He was quiet, and I counted that as enough a victory for now.

Lunch was concluded shortly thereafter, and I was happy to be gone from under the penetrating stare of the enemy. I was not afraid of him, not really, I was merely afraid that Sean Conlon would tear through New York City until he got me back. But I was still working out the kinks of my plan as we headed back to the Bronx warehouse.

"Why do you taunt him so, Angel?" Desiree asked, leading me back into the room I'd woken up in. I realized this was to be my accommodations while I was kidnapped. I didn't know why I wasn't tied up and stored in a closet or something, but I wasn't about to question that. It was rather odd, though.

"He can do nothing to me, Desiree. I am his leverage. I can taunt all I want. Nothing he can say bothers me," I informed her, because it was true.

If Johnny wanted to make a point with me to Spot, he would keep me around until he reached it. However, I was worried about how far I could push him before he actually gave it up and killed me. How far would I be able to gamble with my life before I'd push him too far?

I pulled my dress and my corset off and curled up under the blankets in just my chemise and fell asleep.

_I walked along the road, whistling a cheerful tune. I wasn't sure why I was so happy; I just was happy. Dreams were funny that way. You knew you were happy, or sad, or angry, but the reason was not stated. Regardless, I felt happy._

_And then I stopped, and stared._

_Sean was walking towards me, smiling to his side but I couldn't see who he was smiling at. The closer he got, the happier I felt, if that were possible. I was pretty happy before I realized he was there._

_He got close enough for me to see who it was he'd been smiling at. I realized that it was me. _I_ was walking beside him. He'd smiled at _me_. Confused, I continued to watch, shocked that it had been myself with him, instead of my mind playing tricks on me and putting someone else there instead._

_The dream-Lissa put her hand inside Sean's, smiling back at him when he tossed her a secret smile that he only seemed to give her. It was a secret; their secret. I noticed something else in her other hand, dangling from her fingers, swinging slightly as she walked. It came in fuzzy, just a blur of gray, until I saw it._

_The skeleton key._

I awoke with a start, rubbing my eyes in embarrassment and confusion. I couldn't believe I'd fallen asleep. I was alone, of course, and I looked around. I pulled my corset and my dress back on and then sat back down on the bed, my back straight as a board from the damnable corset. I rummaged through the bedside table for a moment, looking for a brush. Once I found one, I ran it through my slightly gnarled hair and then began braiding it

"Are you decent?" a voice asked from outside the door, knocking.

"Yes!" I said, and then rolled my eyes.

Dodger strolled in and grinned at me. I snorted at his attitude and then stood up, putting my hands on my hips to face him. "Let me guess," I drawled. "Your master wants to see me."

"You're such a smart girl, Angel. I knew you were smart," Dodger said, laughing, as he went for my elbow.

I gritted my teeth, but allowed him to 'escort' me out of the room by my elbow like some fine and proper gentleman. We walked down the steps and I glared collectively at the bunch of Bronx newsies who were currently getting absolutely wasted. Yes, I lived in Brooklyn, but even those Brooklynites paled in comparison to this bunch of miscreants.

And that was not a good thing.

"Angel, darling! How nice of you to join the party!"

I wired my mouth shut and perked my chin a bit higher, staring with level green eyes as Johnny sauntered towards me with that frightening look in his eye. I felt like a bug to be squashed under his boot, and, though I didn't fear him per se, he instilled a certain wariness that I wasn't too sure I was comfortable with. Any sort of weakness like dread or apprehension would be sniffed out and automatically exploited for all it was worth. I couldn't afford to be weak in front of him.

"Not much of a party, is it?"

I gave the room a once-over. Cheap prostitutes hung off all ready wasted boys who either didn't notice the fact that there were girls there, or didn't care to notice. It was pitiful, really. It wasn't a party; it was a sad excuse for a bunch of newsies.

"Sorry to disappoint then, darling."

I regarded his drunken eyes coolly, trying not to squirm under the oppressive weight of them. He was appraising me, of course, and it made me sick to my stomach. I didn't like to be looked upon like an object. I'd had quite enough of that.

Without a word, however, I was pulled over to something that looked like a bar. He got himself another drink and then looked at me as if asking if I wanted one. I suppressed the urge to roll my eyes.

"I don't drink."

Johnny smirked. "Of course not."

He took a long pull from his glass, still staring at me. It made me nervous, and I resisted the urge to take a step back to relieve the pressure his gaze was inflicting.

"You're a very beautiful woman, Miss O'Rourke," he murmured over his glass. "Given Conlon's gravitation towards the finer things of this world, I see he has chosen a most fine woman to be his little queen. You do know that all he wants of this life is a porcelain tub, correct?"

Disgusted, I tore my eyes from the beading on the bodice of my dress to his face again. "Do not speak to me in such a foul way! I am not an object!"

"Stupid wench, how dare you disrespect me!"

I danced backwards and then promptly slumped to my backside, disoriented, only to realize I'd been smashed in the face by his large hand. He hadn't punched me, but slapped me, harder than he intended I figured, since it left me seeing stars and black spots appeared over my vision for a few moments. Lucky for him, not so lucky for me, I had endured much worse at the hand of my father, so a simple slap in the face was not all that painful. I touched my jaw, feeling the beginnings of a bruise starting to form there.

My face stung with the reverberations of the slap.

I groaned slightly and rubbed my smarting cheek. Regardless of my threshold for pain, it still had hurt quite a bit more than I'd wished it had.

"Now then, darling, let us think twice about how we speak to someone who is holding us captive, hm?" he whispered in my ear.

I shook my head, trying to gather my wits so I could come up with some sort of snappy remark. All I could focus on was the maddening pain in my jaw.

"Johnny! Spot Conlon is here to see ya!" a boy said from… somewhere. I wasn't really sure where.

"Ahh, Spot Conlon. So nice of ya to join our little party. Say hello to the King, Angel darling," Johnny said sweetly, yanking me off the ground roughly by my arm.

My vision swam at the sudden movement and I blinked a few times, looking up to see Sean Conlon in all his rugged newsboy glory, looking pissed, bleary-eyed, and something like relieved to see that I wasn't maimed, dead, or somewhere in the middle of those.

"I've come to barter for the life of my girl," he said simply.

* * *

_**Boo for short chapters, I know, but I'm exhausted. College really wears me out, kids. xD. Sorry for any and all grammer/spelling/any kind of mistakes this chapter. I blame the fact that I am running purely on Mt. Dew and cold pizza. No, really! :)**_

**_funfact: Watch this part in Newsies again, and tell me what you think: when Jack, Dave and Boots go to Brooklyn (no, I do NOT have an obsession with Spot Conlon, he's just a sexy MOFO, but I digress), watch him as he's making his little "boidy" speech. I've noticed that he makes this really fierce face when he lets the marble fly in his slingshot. Opinions? xD_**

**_Reviews would be nice. All reviews will get you a Spot!muse hug, because they are the best, aye?_**

_**CTB!**_

_**xx Wicked**_


	16. the escape

**CHESS**

**Chapter Sixteen**

"How very selfless of you, Conlon, to want to give something of yours for the life of this poor little wretch of a girl," Johnny said, like they were discussing the weather as two old but good friends.

I groaned slightly, my head pounding. Johnny's grip was steadfast on my arm, allowing me little to no movement whatsoever. Not like I was planning on bolting anytime soon. Perhaps I had planned on that before I was slapped in the face, but I was disoriented now. I wasn't going anywhere, and Johnny knew that.

"My beef ain't with you, Johnny, so why don't you get Vinnie for me?" Spot asked, not even looking over at me. I wondered if it was because he knew he'd lose his cool if he looked over and saw how terrible I must have looked.

"You called?" a new voice said, and I twisted around to see who it was.

The unknown boy that was there from when I got kidnapped. I felt my eyes widen. Vinnie, who was wielding a pistol, shoved Johnny out of the way and gripped my arm in a matter of seconds, not even leaving me time to wobble a little in surprise. My head was still swimming a bit.

"Such a pretty little girl you've got, Conlon. Prettier than you said she was," Vinnie said casually, gripping my chin in his dirty hand. I grimaced slightly, and tried not to be grossed out. I looked up and found him leering down at me. "I have always been partial to green eyes."

I was so revolted, but my disgust always came coupled with bravery, so I spit in his face. I was appalled at being talked to in such a way. Vinnie's eyes flashed anger and he smashed me hard on the other side of my face with the heel of his gun. I wasn't so lucky this time, because I slumped to the ground and blackness covered my eyes.

:-:-:-:-:-:

I came to all at once this time, but it wasn't a good thing. It was like everything was being held over my head, and then dropped on top of me all at once. I groaned and rolled over, my jaw aching. I reached up slowly and patted my jaw, frowning slightly at the pain radiating from there.

"Angel?"

I looked up and saw Desiree peering down at me, looking like a doll with her white-blonde hair. I swallowed hard and sat up. I could hardly move my jaw at all. It hurt so badly.

"I have to get outta here," I said quietly, even through my sore jaw. Desiree nodded and then sat down at my bedside. "I can't keep doing this. I refuse to keep getting abused."

Desiree sighed and then nodded. "I don't know how you do it, Angel."

"Do what?" I muttered. "Get pissed because I can't stand getting abused anymore?"

"No... I mean." She paused, like she was trying to think of the correct way of phrasing it. "How can you be so strong?"

"Whaddya mean?" I asked confused. I sat up and slid over to where she was sitting, so I was sitting beside her.

"How is it that you are so strong? I've been through the same things you have, Angel. Why aren't we the same?"

I frowned, surprised. "You don't know what I've been through," I said carefully, afraid to telling too much. I still didn't trust her very much.

"I was abused by my father in the same way you were abused by yours," she said quietly; so quiet that I nearly missed it.

Shock, then surprise, than sympathy. That's how the emotions crossed my brain. I tilted my head and then looked away, trying to gather the right words so that they wouldn't offend her.

"I have a very good friend that would probably say something like this," I said slowly. "Some people... are different. Some people, like me, are... resilient, I guess is the word for it." I sighed. "Some people just handle things differently, I guess."

"How do you do it, Angel? How do you act like what your dad did to you doesn't matter?" Desiree asked, but it sounded like she was begging.

I shook my head. "It's not about acting like what my father did to me meant nothing. It's about knowing that I didn't do anything wrong." I smiled at her, slightly. "You have to forgive yourself, Desiree. It's the only way to get better."

I stopped, realizing I hadn't been taking my own advice. Not completely. I hadn't forgiven myself for Diana's death. I was carrying her around with me, beating myself up with it, because I hadn't forgiven myself. _If I make it out of here alive, I am going to have to talk to Nightshade,_ I told myself forcefully, so I would remember.

Desiree smiled softly. "Thank you for telling me that, Angel. I... really needed to hear that, I think," she said softly.

"My best friend once said that... forgiving someone doesn't make them right. It just makes you free," I said, fishing Nightshade's words out of my brain. Hopefully that was how she said it, at least.

Desiree smiled at me again and then looked up when there was a knock at the door. He didn't wait for us to let him in, and just pushed inside, smiling jovially like we were old friends. Stupid Dodger.

"Go away, Dodger," I muttered.

"Don't be like that, Angel. I'm here to take you to dinner," Dodger said. "Oh, and Des, Vinnie wants to see you."

Desiree paled slightly and I noticed it. She rose and left the room. I left with Dodger to the same stupid bar we went to last time, eating quietly, not responding when he spoke at all. I wasn't there to make nice with Dodger.

I was so happy when dinner was over. I nearly fell over myself trying to get back into the stupid warehouse. I still had no idea where the hell I was, sadly. I shoved myself back into the small room that was deemed mine, and gasped when I saw Desiree, sitting with bruises littering her skin. I was shocked, and horrified.

"Angel, we have to get you out. Tonight. We can't wait anymore," Desiree said urgently, standing up instantly when she saw me.

"What did he do?" I demanded, frowning as I came to stand beside her.

"Nothing he doesn't do normally," she muttered and then sighed. "Listen, Angel, we have to play this cool. When he goes to bed, I'll sneak you out."

Night mounted quickly upon New York, thankfully, and I sneaked out of my room towards the washroom down the hall, where I'd left some of my things earlier that morning. I placed my cap on my head, changing into my lovely, dirty, and faded newsie clothes. God, how I'd missed them! I'd missed the elbows that were wearing through, I missed how the pants puddled around my boots. And regardless of being on my body, they still gave the slightest scent of Spot.

With a smile, I stole back through the dark hallway, until I was grabbed by the elbow, halting my movement severely. I turned and looked up through the darkness, smelling whiskey in the air. I blinked a few times, trying to pull my elbow free, but the grip on it was too tight.

"It's funny, you know, Miss Angel," a slurred voice told me. I blinked a few times, trembling.

"What's funny? The fact that you're keeping me here against my will? Or the fact that you are enjoying this more than you should?" I hissed.

"Such spirit, little angel," the voice said, a hand gripping my jaw. I knew it was Vinnie from the hand. I could feel him grinning in the darkness. "How long would it take to break you, I wonder? A week? Two?" He chuckled. "or would you simply run away inside yourself as you did each night your body betrayed you when he touched you?"

"Stop talking to me that way!" I shouted, but my voice cracked. I was shaking. How did he know this about me?

"You know, little angel, I think you rather enjoyed it," Vinnie continued. "It is better to have unwanted attention, than to have no attention at all. And isn't that what you crave most, little angel? Attention from those who haven't given you any?"

"Stop," I whispered, tears in my eyes. I tried to shake them, but they threatened to fall.

"Or do you simply think you are so unlovable after all? Isn't that your greatest fear, little angel? Knowing that everyone simply does not love you? That you will never find love in your sad little life?" He laughed again, deeper this time, and the tears fell like rain.

I shuddered and he leaned down, licking the tears from my cheek. I trembled, disgusted. His hand moved down my arm, slowly.

"Luckily, I can love you all I want, little angel, and there is nothing you can do to stop me," he whispered.

I shuddered again, my feet nailed to the floor. It was happening again. My eyes were wide open, cemented in place, staring boldly at that which I was most afraid of, just like with my father.

"Stop it! She said stop it!" Desiree's voice rang out through my impending darkness.

Vinnie snarled up at her. "I thought we discussed this, Desiree. Do not interfere with my plans," he growled at her.

"No! I will not be a puppet any longer!" She pushed me back roughly and punched Vinnie as hard as she could, sending him dancing backwards. She turned to me with wild eyes. "Run, Angel! Run now!"

I didn't have to be told twice. I turned and ran headlong down the stairs, not even stopping. I darted out into the dark street and began running again, skirting around patches of ice and snowdrifts. I continued running for a few minutes until I stopped and looked around, panting heavily. Then, something occurred to me:

I had no idea where the hell I was.

And, naturally, my first endearing thought was the following:

_Well, shit._

* * *

_**-ducks and hides from the angry kids with no money-**_

**_Okay, so I've been gone. For... ever. I'd like to explain, so please don't kill me._**

**_I snapped my flashdrive inside my laptop and I spent a few days grumbling angrily over how I lost everything I was working on. Then I started rewriting this chapter, and hit a serious Writer's Block wall. Took me forever to get over it. But I think this chapter turned out better than I'd originally planned._**

**_Now you can kill me. I swear I didn't mean to keep you waiting this long. I hope I haven't lost my fan base because of this freakish absense... Sad face. And I know, I know, this chapter was not worth the wait. But I all ready have next chapter planned out. It should make up for the length of space in which I was gone. xD._**

_**CTB!**_

_**xx Wicked**_

**_P.S- Oh, and Bren, if you are reading this (which I'm sure you are), you, my dear, need to update. :)_**


	17. the love

**CHESS**

**Chapter Seventeen**

It was dark. Black as pitch dark, no stars at all, and the moon was a pale sliver of fingernail in the sky, not giving much light. Three figures sat outside, one smoking, the other two leaning against the brick of the Brooklyn Lodging House. Samantha Brown took a rough pull from her cigarette and then sighed the smoke out, looking back at her two companions.

"Where d'ya think Angel is right now? Think she's all right?" she asked in a gruff tone that a girl might use if she were trying to pass herself off as a boy.

Burnin, Sam's very best friend, slanted a look at Silver, who had his hands stuffed in his pockets and hadn't given very much to the conversation since they'd come out some twenty minutes ago. "What'd you think, Silver?"

"Who the hell knows?" Silver replied, his voice a little more harsh than he'd intended.

He worried about Angel like one would worry about a little sister who liked flitting in between carriages in the streets. With a frown firmly set on his face, Silver walked back inside the Lodging House. Sam looked a little shocked.

"What the hell's up his ass?" she asked Burnin, tossing her cigarette away from herself to come and stand beside her friend.

"Well, Spot is, for one," Burnin said, having an affinity for reading people like the books they were. He was like Race and Smooth, who were both avid poker players. In poker, you had to read people like books to know exactly what sort of hand they had on them. Burnin was just a smart kid; he got things easily.

"Spot hasn't said two words to _any_ of us," Sam pointed out.

She worried about Spot rather severely, always the one to pull him to the side and as "are you okay?" quietly so nobody heard. She'd been asking him that more and more as the hours passed and still Angel did not return. He'd never tell anybody it, but Spot Conlon was beating the crap out of himself for letting Angel leave Tibby's that day without him. He was stricken with guilt, and everyone knew it, but nobody said a word, because they weren't sure it was going to lash out in anger, or just crumble away completely.

None of the Brooklynites wanted to see either one.

"I dunno, Sam, but if Angel don't come back soon, I'm gettin' worried that Brooklyn may explode," Burnin said harshly. "And I ain't talkin' about the place."

**:-:-:-:-:-: Whip pan to Angel! ****:-:-:-:-:-:**

I stood in the middle of the damn street, looking around, growling slightly in spite of myself. Why couldn't I have realized that _before_ I started running? I stomped my foot once in utter annoyance and then started running again, hoping I would happen upon a familiar place. The Bronx couldn't have been that big.

Right?

I sighed, rounding the corner. I saw light pouring from a building and decided if there was light, there was people. I stepped out of the frigid air and into the house, looking around wide-eyed at my surroundings. Scantily-clad women trotted around everywhere, dragging half-drunk, high-standing men up a worn wooden staircase. I blew air out of my lips, feeling a little cynical.

A young women in a purple dress shuffled up to me, giving me a once over, probably noticing the swell of my chest underneath my worn shirt. "'m sorry, dear, but we don't serve your..." she gave me another once over and crossed her arms. "_Gender_ here."

I almost rolled my eyes. "I am not looking for a scarlet lady. I'm looking for directions. Could you be of help to me at all?" I asked, trying so hard to be polite.

"'Course, dear, but make it quick. I have a client coming," the woman said.

I nodded. "Can you direct me to the way to Brooklyn? I got lost here and I'm not sure where to go."

"You a tourist or something?" she asked, eyeballing me again. That was starting to piss me off.

I shook my head. "I've lived here for six years."

"And you _still_ don't know your way around Manhattan?" she asked incredulously, and then make a _tsk_ sound with her tongue.

I blinked. "We're in _MANHATTAN?_" I nearly screamed.

"You didn't know that?" she asked, and then laughed. "Why, Battery Park is just down a few blocks from here."

"You're kidding," I deadpanned, amazed at my own stupidity. How long had I been skipping around Manhattan? Granted, I had always gone the opposite way, away from the Battery, more towards Little Italy and the East Side, so perhaps that is why. "What street is this, by the way?"

"Albany Street, dear," she said and then gave a thoughtful look. "You needed a way to Brooklyn, yes? If you go through Trinity and follow Broadway to City Hall, you can easily follow the Brooklyn Bridge and you should know the way once you hit Brooklyn."

I nodded. "Thanks for your help."

"Oh, and dear?" she called. I was all ready at the door, and turned back. "Stay out of the alleys. It's not safe for you at this time of night."

I tipped my hat and all but ran in the direction she'd told me to go. I stopped at the mouth of the Brooklyn Bridge to catch my breath and then ran the expanse of the bridge. I burst into the Brooklyn Lodging House and smiled shyly at Parks, who looked startled out of his reading.

"Angel?" he asked incredulously.

I nodded and then smiled. "Yep, that's me," I responded cheekily.

I fished out the few coins I had left, set them on the table next to the ledger and, after signing my name below the rest of the boys (and Sam and Fire), I plodded up the stairs to see if anyone was still awake at this time of night.

"Holy hell!"

I smiled and rolled my eyes. Yeah, they were still up. "Hello to you, too, Silver."

He got up and barreled towards me. I stiffened slightly, bracing myself for attack, and then groaned as I found myself on the ground, with a very happy Silver Harris on top of me. Sam was next, a giant grin on her face, followed by Fire. I groaned again.

"You all are the last people I wanted to see. Now the hell off," I muttered and then all clamored to get off me, Silver and Fire both taking my hands to hoist me up. "Now then, where is Spot?"

Silver sighed. "He went to bed early. He ain't been feelin' too hot since he went to see Vinnie in the Bronx, and saw ya get clocked in the mouth. Which, by the way, looks like it hurts like a bitch."

I rubbed my jaw slightly, remembering the large bruise that was probably there, and still purple. I wrinkled my nose slightly and then sighed. "Yeah, it did," I said, remembering how Vinnie cornered me, and then the feelings that went along with it. I shuddered.

"Anyways, Spot's in his room, obviously. He'll be really happy you came back," Silver said, and then frowned. "Why are you here anyways?"

I smiled sweetly at him. "'Cause I escaped," I said simply, and then ducked into the dark room of the Brooklyn leader.

I closed the door slowly and quietly and pulled my hat off, tossing it to the side as I crept forward carefully. He was curled up under my purple afghan at the very edge of the bed, like he usually slept when I shared his bed. I smiled slightly and then knelt down at his side, whispering his name and giving his shoulder a small shake.

Nothing.

I nearly growled in annoyance, stupid boy, and then shook him harder, speaking his name a little louder. He rolled over onto his back but still didn't wake up. I sighed loudly and then shrugged in spite of myself, and then flicked his ear.

I sat back, watching in delight as he sat up abruptly with a yell. "Mother of God, Silver!" he shouted and then looked around.

I blinked and smiled up at him, enjoying the look of sleepy confusion that was written all over his face once his eyes fell to my face. "Hello, Sean."

"Lissa!" he shouted and then nearly fell over himself to get to me, even though I was inches away from the edge of his bed.

I found myself, once again, tackled to the floor, this time by a very welcome body. I embraced him when he wrenched me forward into him, hugging me so fiercely I thought he might snap my spine in half.

"_Conas mar a tháinig tú éalú?"_ he asked. _How did you escape?_

I shook my head slowly, smiling against his neck._ "An bhfuil sin tábhachtach i ndáiríre?"_ I answered. _Is that really important?_

He leaned back and took my face in his hands. _"Teacht chun na leapan liom,"_ he whispered, pressing his lips against my forehead. _Come to bed with me._

I nodded slowly and he climbed back onto the bed. I stood up and slid my trousers off slowly, my fingers shaking. He must have noticed.

"Why are you shaking, Liss?" he murmured in the darkness.

I swallowed hard. Here it was. The moment of truth.

"You've been very patient with me, Sean. And I care very much that you have been," I began in a small voice, and then turned to face him. "But I would have this thing settled between us." I held my head a little higher. "I will not have another man take what rightfully belongs to you, what has always belonged to you."

His eyes widened slightly and I could have sworn I saw his cheeks warm just slightly in the pale sliver of moonlight that shone through the dirty window above his bed. I cracked a silly smile.

"What's wrong, O King of Brooklyn? Do I make you nervous?" I asked softly and then came to sit beside him on the bed. He hadn't moved an inch.

"No, I just..." He stopped and put his hand affectionately on my knee. His touch sent fire up my leg. "I don't want you to do this if you're not ready. I mean it, Lissa. I'm done pushing you around."

"I wouldn't have brought it up if I hadn't meant a word I was saying, Sean Conlon. Now then," I said, squaring my shoulders a bit. "Make me yours forever."

Disrobed quickly, a frenzy of kisses, and he hovered over top of me, his blue eyes having darkened considerably since this began. But he paused above me, so close, and peered into my eyes.

"_An bhfuil tú ag iarraidh mé a stopadh?"_ he whispered. _Do you want me to stop?_ It was probably the sixth time he'd stopped and asked me that. And my answer was always the same:

"_Ná." Never._

So he let go.

I gasped involuntarily, body jerking at the first intimate contact. Several moments later, after many incoherent mumblings, unconscious shaking, and heavy, guttural pants, I became terribly parched. And though my eyes were tightly shut, I could feel and see the brightness of lights over my head that weren't there. It wasn't like when you closed your eyes to the sun – a warm, glow of yellow and orange overcoming your vision, but a dull brightness overlapping a sea of black. It was weird; it was wrong. A part of me felt as if I were on display, spread out and open, bathed in floodlights. The other, so caught up in the rapture of passion, didn't dare to give a damn, nor wanted to.

Mouth agape, I burned and shook. Broken, I collapsed, disintegrating to particles of ash that congealed seconds later into a pool of utter satisfaction. He curled up behind me, fingers tracing languidly along my side from my hip to my armpit. His mouth was warm as it reached my ear.

_"__Mo shaol, mo chroí. __Mo ghrá,"_ he whispered._ My life, my heart. My love._

I closed my eyes slowly, knowing that I was about to hurt him again. I waited until I knew he was asleep, hearing his breathing even out and his arm curled around my waist go slack. I eased out from under him, looking over my shoulder to make sure he was still asleep.

He was.

I pulled my clothing back on slowly, smiling slightly at the dull ache that began to form at the apex of my thighs. I was his now. Forever. And it felt so good; it felt right. But it was with heavy heart that I yanked myself out of the window and crept down the fire escape, walking with head held high back in the wolf's cave.

* * *

_**Okay, so I suck some major girraffe abortions (Spot!muse hug to anyone who figures out THAT reference) for not putting this up sooner, plus ruining the sweetness as well. But come on, kids, all the fluff HAD to have been giving you cavities. xD. Besides, it was much longer, too! Yaya!**_

**_But... hopefully you're all thinking: FINALLY! Because I am, too. xD. I know, I know. I'm a Christian and I discourage sex before marriage (I am a virgin myself), but I felt bad for them and wanted them to have some sweetness. :)_**

**_So, yeah. Tell me what you think, and visit my profile for the link to my Facebook, and then add me! Hahah._**

_**CTB!**_

_**xx Wicked**_

**_P.S- All places mentioned in this chapter are real. I love researching; it makes for a better fanfic, eh? :)_**


	18. the explanation

**CHESS**

**Chapter Eighteen**

I kept my chin up, gritting my teeth as I was shoved forward and then pushed to my knees before Vinnie, who stood on a dais-like platform. I groaned and shook my head, trying to force the ringing in my ear to cease. For about the two hundredth time, I was sorry I came back. Not that I expected the Bronx boys to welcome me back with open arms. Honestly, they were being really _nice_ to me at this point.

My wrists had been bound behind my back, how cliché, and I glared up at Vinnie, who was smiling and twirling his pistol around in his hand. The Bronx boys had gathered around, waiting to see what would happen, especially when I came walking back inside that morning.

"Nice of you to join us again, little angel," Vinnie said pleasantly and then stepped off the dais, leaning down into my face. "Now, make sure you scream real loud when I clip your little wing."

I felt the binding slide off my wrists, but before I could move to strangle him, white hot pain seared through my shoulder from behind. I screamed so loud, just like he knew I would, and slumped forward, clutching my shoulder.

**:-:-:-:-:-:**

"I can't believe she left," Silver said, coming to stand beside Spot, who was staring into his room, looking at his bed.

Spot shook his head. "I can. Angel's stubborn as hell. Bet she thought she was being a coward by running from the Bronx so she went back to prove to herself that she ain't no coward." Spot sighed, irritated. "Stubborn bitch, she is."

Silver nodded and frowned. "You know Vinnie is gonna hurt her, if he hasn't all ready," he said.

Spot nodded, matching his frown. "I know."

Both boys turned when they heard foot steps behind them, facing Raccoon who looked grim-faced. Following her was her handful of best fighters, plus Sam and Fire. Raccoon put her hand on Spot's shoulder.

"We will gladly walk into the fire with you to get her back," she told him seriously.

"We all will," Sam added.

Spot nodded and then looked at Fire. "I need you to stay here and keep the boys in line, Fire. Can ya do that for me?" he asked.

She nodded once. "Leave it to me. You just bring Angel back in once piece. Or, in pieces, so we can put her back together," she added sardonically.

Fire turned and glared at the remaining boys. "All right, all of you that ain't going to the Bronx with Conlon, get your asses up and sell the papes! Let's go!" she shouted, and the boys hauled ass, looking a bit frightened of her and her loud mouth.

The Brooklynites that were going with Spot crowded in beside the mud larks, looking to their leader for this next move. Spot searched their faces, not seeing the one he wanted, until he pushed through to the front and stared up at Spot.

"Spot, I want to help get Angel back," Sneak said boldly. "Let me come with you."

"Tell you what, kid," Spot said, after a moment of thought. "You go to Manhattan, and let Jacky-boy know what's going on, just in case we have to bring Angel there. See if he can get Nightshade to meet us there, because I'm sure she'll need her."

Sneak nodded, a little reluctantly, and then scampered out. Spot looked back at the group and then nodded. "Let's go."

Spot decided to take the Brooklynites through Queens instead of Manhattan, not wanting to involve the Manhattaners in the fight. Patch was all ready outside and waiting with some of his own fighters when Spot and the other arrived to ask if he would be joining them.

Snow was falling rather hard, and wryly, Spot decided that if it were less colder, it would be pouring down rain. Spot stopped them, however, just outside Vinnie's warehouse.

"We'll get ambushed if we all go in together," he said coldly. "Come in through the roof, and don't move until I give the signal."

"Sure, Spot," Silver agreed easily and then leaned in a little when Spot turned to face him. "What's the signal?"

He pulled his cane from the loop in his suspenders and gripped it tightly, giving Silver a tip of the hat before ducking inside. Spot Conlon didn't like being bested, that was for damn sure, but he also didn't like not knowing what he was going to encounter. So when he saw all the Bronx boys crowded around in the main part of the warehouse, Spot braced himself for the worst.

"And now that our guest of honor has arrived, the show can begin!" Vinnie crowed.

Emitting a growl of annoyance as two large boys grabbed his elbows from either side of him, Spot gritted his teeth as the Bronx boys parted like the Red Sea, so Vinnie could see him. But he didn't care that Vinnie was grinning, twirling his pistol around like a bastard. He saw her first.

Sitting on her knees beside Vinnie's feet, clutching her shoulder, thick hair matted down slovenly and hiding her face, was Angel. Her head was nearly on the ground, and he could see her teeth chattering with pain. Her shoulder looked wrong, however, and she was holding it like she was trying to keep the rest of her arm from falling off. There was no blood, however, so Spot could only assume that Vinnie had knocked her arm from its socket.

The boys holding him frog-walked him towards the dais and Spot held his head high as the Bronx boys teased and taunted him.

"Not so high and mighty now, are ya, Conlon?"

"We got your girl, Conlon, give it up!"

He ignored them and regarded Vinnie with ice-colored eyes. Vinnie smiled down at him and then pressed the barrel of his gun to Lissa's head. "Let it be know that I, Vincent Luis Vitari, find you, Spot Conlon, leader of Brooklyn, guilty of high treason to the Bronx." Vinnie grinned. "And for my own amusement, your pitiful little angel shall die for your crimes. Now then, have you any words before I put a bullet in her pretty little head?"

Spot gritted his teeth as Lissa lifted her head. She looked awful, a dark purple bruise on her jaw. How had he not noticed that last night? Her green eyes were filled with tears. Spot looked up as Vinnie cocked the hammer, the click bringing him out of his thoughts.

"Yeah, tell her why we're fighting," Spot said.

"What?" Spot's request had surprised Vinnie, to say the least.

"Tell Angel why we're fighting. She deserves to know why she has to die," Spot said casually, ignoring the look of shock on Lissa's face. "Or will I tell her?"

Vinnie said nothing, his cheeks growing red with his anger. Spot smirked and then turned his eyes to Lissa.

"About a year ago, Angel, Vinnie and I were pretty good pals. I helped him out when he wanted to take over the Bronx. He had this pretty girl, kinda like you, doll, and she called herself Pocket, 'cause she was pickpocket, just like you, doll." Spot kept his jovial exterior, ignoring the fact that Vinnie was getting increasingly angry. "Anyhow, Vinnie here ain't all that innocent. Once he got to be leader, he started stepping out on her, smacking her around when she asked him about it."

"That's a lie! That bitch was steppin' out on _me_!" Vinnie shouted, spittle forming on his lips.

"So, naturally, since Vinnie and I were pals, Pocket came runnin' to Brooklyn normally, and I always let her spend the night in my room with me. She refused to sleep in a bunk, so she slept on the floor under the window." Spot shrugged. "I was a nice guy back then, and I didn't want her to be scared no more."

"You asshole! You stole her away from me! You put lies in her head about me!" Vinnie shouted.

"I didn't put nothing in there that wasn't all ready there because of you," Spot replied coldly. Vinnie clamped his mouth shut, so Spot continued. "Anyhow, one night, Pocket came round the Lodging House, stumbling all over the place with this huge bruise on her cheek and her nose was gushing blood. It looked real bad. Told me Vinnie beat her ass. I told her she could stay, of course, but she wasn't happy with that. She refused to go back." Spot frowned, remembering. "I wouldn't let her stay, since I knew Vinnie would burn down half of New York looking for her if she shacked up with me, so I didn't let her stay. She jumped off the Brooklyn Bridge. Bulls found her body the next morning, and it was in the afternoon edition that day."

"That ain't how it went! She came after you because you're a damn skirt-chaser, Conlon! You know it! She loved me, but she forgot all about me when you came around," Vinnie crowed, the gun slipping from Lissa's head.

"No. I didn't beat her ass every damn day. I didn't put fear in her. And I didn't make her jump off that bridge. _You did_," Spot growled.

With a cry of rage, Vinnie turned the gun on Spot, but Spot wasn't nervous at all. Vinnie was acting on emotions, which was not smart at all. Spot knew he would be impaired, if he attacked.

"You took my girl from me, so now I'm going to take your girl from you. Read it and weep, Conlon," Vinnie said coldly and then turned the gun back at Lissa. Her eyes went wide and her mouth opened like she was ready to scream.

"NOW!" Spot shouted.

The Booklynites poured into the warehouse and Spot dove at Vinnie, feeling a momentary lax in the hold on him. Spot pummeled Vinnie to the ground but everything went deathly quiet at the gunshot.

Lissa screamed and Spot almost wrestled himself on top of Vinnie, but Vinnie eased out from under Spot's grip. He looked down at the smoking barrel on the gun, put the still-hot metal into his mouth, and pulled the trigger again.

The Bronx boys were in chaos, and Spot was almost afraid they would trample Lissa, since she was sporting a dislocated shoulder, and probably completely terrified. He pushed through everyone and finally found her, her hand holding her leg, and she was sobbing softly.

Spot skidded down beside her on his knees, taking her hand gently in his. Lissa looked up slowly, her tears leaving clean trails down her dirty cheeks. Spot looked down when he felt stickiness on her hand. He almost wretched when he saw it:

So.

Much.

Blood.

* * *

_**So, my fight scene is in the same vein of the Breaking Dawn fight scene: it blows major ass. xD. (How many cool points did I just lose for having subjected my brain to the horror of Twilight? xDDDDD)**_

**_Hopefully I will gain some back with this: You just lost the game. -hearts-_**

_**CTB!**_

_**xx Wicked**_


	19. the recovery

**CHESS**

**Chapter Nineteen**

Ten days. I spent ten days inside my brain after the Bronx incident, shoveling through years of muck that I hadn't gotten rid of yet. I slept the whole time.

Dreamless.

When I awoke, I was in pain. My arm was in a sling, because of my sore shoulder, and the back of my calf was all taped up nice and tight. Nightshade said it was a clean wound; nothing to worry about at all. So, I confessed everything to her. I confessed seeing Diana's ghost, the feeling of utter lunacy that I was carrying around like dead weight on my back, and the fact that I hated Lily so much and I didn't know why.

I stayed with Night at her house during my recovery process, because I felt safe there. I needed her. I spent most of the first month with her crying. Over many things, not just Diana. I couldn't even talk about Diana at first, because Night and I were so busy shoveling through the muck and mire, clearing up things that still had yet to be cleaned up. Vinnie had rehashed my old sadness about my father, so Night had me recite my usual mantras about how it wasn't my fault, I never asked for it, etc. It was so hard.

Guilt was hard to bear. Being without Diana was harder. Living with it all was hardest, but I was adapting. I was resilient, after all.

Soon, it was February, and I was surprised at how quickly time flew when I wasn't paying much attention. Spot visited me regularly, bringing me daisies when he could spare the change, because he knew they were my favorite. White daises were always my favorite, but one day he managed to find purple ones, and I was reminded yet again of how utterly in love with him that I was.

Night never asked Spot to come and sit in while she and I talked, probably respecting my privacy. February was when I could finally find it in myself to talk about Diana with Nightshade, but not for long. I could only talk about her, or think about her, in short, painful gasps. I missed her so much.

I missed her shallowness. I missed her pretty smile. I missed the fact that she was always there to grip my hand and walk through the rain with me. I missed that she was my only true blue friend in my former life. I missed that she told me I brought out the best in people, when I couldn't have hated myself more at the time. I hated that she left me here to wander the world alone. I hated that she was selfish and removed herself from my life so suddenly without so much as a goodbye.

But I was glad that, in some ways, she was probably happy, wherever she was.

"Am I going to have to go to an asylum, Night?" I asked her one morning over breakfast, after telling her about seeing Diana's ghost, and about how I thought it had been snowing one afternoon inside the Lodging House, among other things.

Night smiled. "Of course nae. A jus' think ye need tae talk aboot yer pain. Ye havenae addressed it fully, but once ye do, ye will be just fine." She laughed. "Jus' between ye and A, asylums donae work all that well."

"I just... don't want anymore opiates, that's all," I told her seriously. "I don't want to be on anything. I just want to be okay again."

"Ye donae need it, Lissa," Night put her hand over mine. "Ye have unresolved grief, not an illness. There is nothing tae fix. Ye just need tae talk aboot it."

And she and I did talk about it. Well, until February 14th, when Spot Conlon waltzed into Nightshade's house, his hands stuffed into his pockets and a big, silly grin plastered on his face. It was almost frightening, seeing him smiling so widely at me. I much preferred his frequent smug looks. I almost laughed right at him, but instead I lifted myself slowly off the daybed in the parlor and was squeezed nice and tightly against Spot's warm body for my efforts.

"Happy Valentine's Day, Liss," Spot said, in this utterly cheesy-excited voice that made me feel the need to pinch him to see if he'd wake up.

"Are you running a fever, Sean?" I asked him playfully, pressing my hand against his forehead.

"Don't be fresh, Lissa. I bought you something," he said, producing a small black box. He shoved it into my hands and grinned up at me.

"Oh, brother," I murmured and then opened it, my eyes widening a little. "Sean, my goodness, it's lovely."

Sean smiled and then leaned in, picking the claddagh ring up from its resting place in the bed of gauze-like material. It was so pretty, with a green heart in the middle of the hands instead of a plain silver heart. "I even got it inscribed. See?"

I turned the ring a bit and smiled. He did get it inscribed:

_Come hell or high water, I love you._

I turned my eyes back to him. "You mean that, don't you?" The words took the entire expanse of the inside of the ring, but I loved it.

He nodded and crossed his arms, his eyes teasing me. "'Course I mean it, you dumb broad."

I thrust it at him. "Then put it on me, Your Highness."

Spot took the ring from my hands and, smiling, slipped it onto the fourth finger of my right hand, with the crowned heart facing down, symbolizing the fact that my heart was taken, or my heart had been "captured." He bent down and kissed my knuckles, but his eyes were on mine. "Come home soon, Lissa."

I nodded, his eyes boring into me. "I'm almost ready."

It was a long way to the finish line, but I wasn't sprinting to get there, like I thought I should be. I walked most of the way. Stopped and sat down when I felt dizzy or tired, stuck my head between my knees and breathed. Sometimes, storm clouds gathered in my head and I had to stay seated a little longer than I wanted to. But I would sit there, quietly, until they cleared. I asked a lot of questions, gaining answers to things I never thought I should ask.

I had to re-learn what it was like to be alive. I had forgotten, and had been slowly allowing myself to die since Diana's funeral, because I wanted to be dead like her, I realized. And everyone around me grappled after me, trying not to let me drown when I kept making myself a dead weight, wishing to sink. But I didn't want to die anymore. Nightshade called this revelation _progress_.

I was a baby all over again. First I had to learn to crawl, then walk, then run. I was learning how to feel happy and sad and in love and angry and hurt and scared and tired all over again. I was learning what everything tasted like again. And I was remembering how good it was.

After about another week and a half, Nightshade decided to start weening me out into the real world. When Spot came to see me like he usually did, she let me spend the afternoon with Spot as he sold, though he was to keep a watchful eye on me. She wanted to see if I could handle the world again, and I wanted to see the same thing.

I hadn't seen Diana since the time in the Bronx, and as I walked with Spot the first few times, I looked for her everywhere. But she wasn't there; she was gone.

"You all right, Lissa?" Spot asked gently, gripping my elbow to stop me from walking. He looked worriedly up into my eyes.

I nodded and smiled. "Yes. I am all right," I answered truthfully, watching his eyes soften affectionately.

It was a few days past the birth of March that Nightshade allowed me to move back into the Lodging House, though I was still on house-arrest, which meant someone was watching me at all minutes of the day, not including Mister Conlon himself. He was always watching me, and I felt sorry for allowing myself to get so far away, and then making him (and pretty much everyone else) worry about me.

By the time I turned around, it was March 10th, the day I hated, and sort of liked at the same time. It was my birthday. Seven days exactly from St. Patrick's Day.

I still took comfort in the monotony and constant of numbers. Seven was the number of completion. On the seventh day, God rested. Seven is perfection. You are to forgive your enemy seventy times seven times. Yes, seven was a good number.

I buttoned up my flannel shirt, one I had stolen from the Brooklyn leader himself (seriously, where did he get so many clothes?), and then turned to find Silver sitting on Spot's bed, grinning from ear to ear at me.

"So I heard it was your birthday," he said in a cheesy voice.

I shrugged. "The big one-eight. Yeah, so?"

"So are you and Conlon gonna tie the knot now or what?" Silver demanded. I looked up as Spot strolled in, looking jaunty as he twirled his cane in his hand.

"Why? Eager to get rid of us?" I asked, crossing the floor to slid my arms around Spot's waist. He bent down to press his mouth against the hollow behind my ear and I could feel him smiling.

"Euch, could you guys stop that for one second?" Silver muttered, and then shuffled out of the room. Spot smiled after him, a secret smile that made me suddenly wary.

"Why are you smirking like that?" I asked suspiciously.

"Because I'm the best," he responded immediately, leaning down to press his lips against mine, effectively diverting my attention for the moment.

"HOLY HELL!"

I leaned back, glaring up at Spot, who stared down at me, eyebrows raised, looking very innocent. Spot Conlon was not an innocent man.

"What the hell was that about?" I demanded.

A smile cracked Spot's lips. "It's a surprise. Come down with me." He gripped my hand, leaving me no time to decide if I wanted to follow or not.

Spot pulled me down the stairs and I was expecting a surprise party, honestly. Instead, two girls stood in the foyer of the Lodging House. Spot pulled me closer and smiled at the two girls.

"Angel, meet Pocket and Firefly," Spot introduced us.

I blinked at them, spit-shaking automatically, but I was confused. "I'm sorry, should I remember them?" I asked Spot, turning eyes to him.

"Not really, no," Spot said and then leaned over, knocking the hat off the one girl. Long, straw-blonde hair fell out in a heap around her shoulders and the girl grinned, something I wasn't expecting.

"That's a lot, Sean," she said, leaning down to get her hat. Her companion, Firefly, snickered.

"'Sean'?" I repeated. "Will someone please tell me what the hell is going on!"

"Remember Pocket?" Spot gave me a silly look, slinging his arm around the blonde girls' shoulder.

" He had this pretty girl, kinda like you, doll, and she called herself Pocket..."

I frowned. "I thought she jumped off the Brooklyn Bridge," I said. I wasn't amused; I hated being kept in the dark.

"Staged the whole thing, doll," Spot informed me. "Found out she was Linny, and didn't let her go back to the Bronx, so I pulled some strings in the papes, and got a fake story about her in the papes so Vinnie would be convinced. Then I made her hide out with Patch so Vinnie wouldn't know, and she met Firefly here. She pretended to be a boy for a little, but once Vinnie was convinced she was dead, Linny didn't have to hide anymore."

I snorted. "You have strings in the paper business?" I asked skeptically.

Spot grinned at me. "Most famous newsie in all of New York, doll."

I nodded. "Of course." Then it hit me, and I gasped. "Linny?" I stared at the blonde girl, Pocket. "Carolina Conlon? Is that you?"

Firefly laughed and gave Pocket a shove. "Carolina? _That's_ your real name?" She howled with laughter and Pocket gave her a shove back.

"Better than Jane!" she shot back, and Firefly sobered up immediately, looking a little embarrassed. Pocket smiled at me. "Yep, it's me. But I go by Pocket now. Nice to see you again, Lissie."

I leaned forward and engulfed her in a hug.

* * *

_**This is King Filler Chapter. Please fear him. He has a cane, too. xD. King Filler Chapter was written to the music of American Hi-Fi. I am showing my age with that ( teehee! )**_

**_And I blame suave sway for the ending, because Pocket wasn't supposed to be alive. But I sort of took her comment about liking the name and ran with it. So blame her. Firefly belongs to Firefly Conlon, who _**_**surreptitiously**_**_ made my day by doing, well, nothing, really. :)_**

**_Raise your hands if you remembered that Mister Spotty Pants had a sister! Hmm? I want to see those hands! Raise 'em high! ( or put it in a review that you remembered? ) :)_**

**_Anyways, the next chapter shall be the_** _**epilogue**_**_ and then this trilogy shall be over! Boohoo! xD_**

_**CTB!**_

_**xx Wicked**_

**_P.S - I am _still_ having trouble with a title for my spin off. I hate that. Usually titles just come to me... I'mma have to work this thing out. :)_**


	20. the end

**CHESS**

**Chapter Twenty**

_And I'll do anything you ever  
Dreamed to be complete  
Little pieces of the nothing that fall  
May put your arms around me_

"Angel, you have the prettiest hair," Charlie informed me, running a brush through the gnarled dampness that was my hair.

"You're such a liar," I laughed. She shrugged and smiled at me through the mirror.

"Not my fault you don't know how to take a compliment," she said simply, and then leaned down to hug me from behind.

We both looked over when Mirror walked in, followed quickly by her Italian beau, Bumlets. I stood up slowly. She and I had been civil to each other, but no words were exchanged. So to have her coming towards me this way was nerve-racking. For a moment, I thought she might actually slug me.

Instead, she stepped up, spit in her hand and offered it to me. Shocked, I reciprocated her gesture and clasped her hand in mine.

"Newsies never turn their backs on their friends," she said, answering the questions in my eyes.

I smiled. "You're not a newsie," I pointed out.

She gave me a playful shove. "Well then you better be damn glad I'm too nice, then, Angel!"

I laughed. "I am glad your damn nice. I don't deserve your kindness."

"No, you don't," she agreed, grinning. "Thank God for my generosity!"

I hugged her tightly and when she hugged back, I found I'd missed her friendship dearly, and I was just really glad we were friends again.

"Hey, Ang!" I let Mirror go, only to get pummeled to the ground by a very happy-looking Piper.

I groaned slightly. "Mother of the Saints, Pip, what the hell?" I muttered, shoving her off from on top of me, but she was still grinning.

"Is Pocket seriously Spot's sister?" Pip stage-whispered, looking wide-eyed up at me.

I nodded. "Yeah, she is. Funny, ain't it?"

Piper nodded. "It IS funny!" she agreed. "I'm excited to see Pirate again, though. I've missed her hanging around here."

I smiled. "It'll be good to see her," I agreed and then laughed. "I'm sure Mister Kelly is beside himself with joy."

Pip snickered. "Race was telling him a story, and after ten minutes, he hit Jack because he was sort of zoning out. Jack hadn't been paying attention!" She laughed. "If he doesn't tell her how he feels today, I'm going to stick my foot so far up his ass."

"No foolin'." I nodded, hooking my arm through hers as we all walked out of the Lodging House together.

I let Pip's arm go, however, seeing Sneak running full speed towards me. I braced myself for the impact, leaned down, and caught him in my arms, laughing when he began laughing.

"Whaddya say, kid?" I asked him, smoothing his hair back with my hand out of instinct.

Sneak gave me an annoyed look, ruffling his hair back to its disheveled mop like it had been before, and I smiled at him. "Spot wants ya back at the Lodging House. Pirate's finally here," Sneak reported.

I nodded and waved goodbye to Mirror, Bumlets, Charlie and Pip. I followed Sneak back to the Manhattan Lodging House, and smiled brightly when Pirate turned around and grinned at me. She looked rather fierce, like she always did, with her tattered skirt and her wind-beaten shirt. There was a boy and a girl standing beside her that I didn't recognize, however, but they were dressed like her, and the boy had a sword at his side that looked much like Pirate's sword. I assumed that this boy was Pirate's first mate.

Spot grinned at me from where he stood next to Jack, shook Pirate's hand and then strolled over to me. He slung his arm around my shoulders and looked back at Pirate.

"I'm sorry for dragging you back here, Angel," Pirate said in her oddly charming Cockney accent. "But I needed witnesses for the wedding."

I blinked a few times, shocked. "You're getting married?"

Pirate grinned, slanting a saucy look at Jack, who looked a little ruffled himself, and then looked back at me. "Nope. Amadeo here wanted me to marry him and Cosette before I passed on my title."

I smiled. "I didn't know there was going to be a wedding," I teased her.

"If I'd have told you, you wouldn't have come," she teased back, and I had to agree with her. Weddings were frightfully dull.

However, this wedding wasn't all that bad, which made me happy. It was quick and easy, and I smiled when they kissed. It wasn't the best wedding in the world, but it was definitely one that they would remember. Spot squeezed me gently and I slanted him a playful glare, but he wasn't looking at me.

Pirate and Amadeo drew their swords and the clanking of metal rung in the air as they pressed the flat sides of their swords together. Pirate held her chin higher. "Do ye, Amadeo Pericolo de la Fontaine, do solemnly swear to upkeep the ship and crew?"

"Aye," was his strong answer.

How adorable. It was a pirate code. Amadeo agreed to everything Pirate asked and eventually, Pirate smiled broadly and placed her hand on his shoulder. "Everyone," she addressed all of us watching. "I am proud to introduce Amadeo Pericolo de la Fontaine, High Captain of the _Cattiva_."

We all cheered for him and Cosette wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him again. Spot squeezed me again. "Well, kids, I've got things to do," he announced and then pulled me out of the Lodging House, smiling at me this time.

"What things have you got to do?" I asked him and then laughed.

"The parade, of course, silly girl." He laughed when I nodded. I'd forgotten about the St. Patrick's Day Parade New York always put on. "We're meeting Pocket and Firefly there, too."

I walked along with him towards Fifth Avenue, where the parade always was. Pocket pulled Firefly through the throng of people and embraced her brother happily. Spot groaned and then gave her a look. "Don't do that in public, Linny," he muttered.

"I'll do whatever I want, Sean," she retorted.

Spot groaned. "Mother of God, now I have two stubborn girls on my hands." He shook his head and I squeezed his hand affectionately, even though Pocket and I grinned at each other. We all took our places, watching the parade. Spot stood behind me, his arms around my waist and I leaned back against him. His fingers found the ring on my finger and began twisting it around absently. I was content.

Gone were the sad thoughts, the fear, the anger. All I felt now was warmth. And it was a nice feeling.

The parade was rousing, of course, and bagpipes always seemed to hit me strangely. They made me slightly reminiscent of rolling green hills, lochs, and soft, tall grass. But I loved New York more, I decided. I loved the random buildings with their mismatched brick and mortar, the cobblestone roads, and the newsies that always seemed to welcome the new kids in with open arms. I loved my friends that, even though they knew something was wrong with me, they continued to love me. That was true friendship. Loving someone despite their faults. And, of course, I loved the Newsie King. How could I not, with him holding me tightly against him?

After the parade was concluded, I excused myself from the trio of them and shuffled off back towards the Manhattan Lodging House, passing Duane Street and continuing down on Broadway. I snitched an apple from a vendor who was with another customer and continued on my way.

Inside the cemetery, I sat on a bench and chomped on my apple thoughtfully. Diana wasn't here, however. Her body was, yes, but her ghost was gone. I was alone here. And I was thankful, to say the least. I was never so happy to be alone in my entire life. I stood up and found a flower vendor across the street, buying three white gardenia. I thanked the girl working the cart and then ambled back into the cemetery, finding her headstone. A pretty angel stood above her headstone, gazing up into the sky, a trumpet at her lips, her long hair flowing around her robes, almost to her knees.

I set the flowers down in the matted grass in front of the stone, smiling softly as the wind brushed across the trees, tickling my hair and my scratchy scarf. "I think I'm finally ready to tell you goodbye, Di. Sorry I didn't speak up," I murmured.

"Sorry I didn't tell you sooner," her voice whispered, honey and silk in my ear. But she wasn't there, simply her voice.

Smiling, I leaned down and pressed my lips against the cold marble. I stood up slowly and sighed, stuffing my fists hard into the pockets of my tweed coat.

"How ya doin', Ang?"

I looked up and smiled as I saw Ramble ambling over towards me, trudging through the melting snow. I embraced her when she was close enough, smiling again.

"I'm doing good," I told her. "Whaddya say?"

Ramble shrugged. "Wanted to see if ya wanted to play poker. Race wants to, and I wanted to come find ya, so you could play, too. Spot told me where to find ya, if you're wondering."

I nodded in agreement. She and I hooked arms and began back up Broadway towards the Lodging House. We played poker until six, with a small break in between since it was dinner time and those who could afford the luxury went out to round up dinner, and then I stood up.

"Well, gents and dolls, it's been swell. But I've got to go," I informed them.

Charlie, who had been sitting beside Mush on his bunk, reading the afternoon edition of the World, looked up and grinned at me. I winked cheekily at her.

"Where ya goin', Angel? Can't ya stay for the whole round?" Race asked, actually looking up at his cards to stare at me.

"I can't, Race. I have this friend performing at Medda's tonight. I wanted to go see her before she goes on," I said, trying to sound cryptic, but I failed.

"I'll come," Spot said, and stood up.

I shook my head. "Nope, sorry, Conlon. It's something I've gotta do myself. But I appreciate the gentleman inside you that wants to break free," I teased him and grinned when the newsies chuckled and cuffed at his arms good-naturedly. He nodded and then sat down, and I smirked. "But you're all welcome to come and see her. She's performing at seven."

I ducked out of the Lodging House and jogged towards Irving Hall, smiling the whole time.

An hour later, dressed in silk and satin, tights, and pink satin shoes laced up tight around my calves, I was ready. I patted my hair nervously and then listened as Medda announced me. The crowd cheered and I fluttered onto the stage, smiling. Nearly half of the crowd was newsies. I bowed a little as they began to cheer again when they realized it was me.

Diana had been waiting for me when I reached the stage, nearly translucent, but dressed the same way I was. She smiled at me and waited, her chocolate eyes dancing with delight. I was dancing alone for the first time since Diana's death. The piano music began tinkling and I began to move.

The light was so deliciously bright.

_May put your arms around me  
What you feel is what you are  
And what you are is beautiful  
May do you wanna get married  
Or run away_

* * *

_**So, dears, this is the last chapter. The big dog. The head cheese. The top banana. xDD**_

_**Hopefully that wraps up some loose ends and such. I feel like the story wrapped itself up, actually. So, thanks for being awesome and sticking with me, and for loving Angel (and kicking Spot's ass) when they needed it. Look out for my new stuff, though. I have an idea brewing that will parallel Dante's **_**Divine Comedy**_**, along with trying to piece together the spin-off of this, so I suppose you'll see Spot and Angel again. :)**_

_**(On a random side note, didja know that Newsies is headed to Broadway? Yep, it's officially in progress. I'mma buy tickets when it comes to Pittsburgh!)**_

_**Until next time, keep carrying the banner, and remember to always seize the day!**_

_**xx Wicked**_

_**PS- The song is called "Slide" by the Goo Goo Dolls. Love them. xD**_

_**PSS- 'Cattiva' means 'bad' in Italian. Teehee for foreign language!**_


End file.
